


Heathens

by radagastcar



Series: The Heathens Saga [1]
Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: Band Fic, Comedy, F/M, Original Character(s), Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2020-07-10 08:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 49,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19902814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radagastcar/pseuds/radagastcar
Summary: They say never meet your heroes, and aspiring metal guitarist Findlay O'Shaughnessy certainly gets more than she bargained for out of Brian "Synyster Gates" Haner, Jr. But it isn't fair to say Brian has Findlay under his thumb, either.With the odds stacked against them - including unsupportive band mates and fans that would rather them be with someone else - Findlay is doubtful the relationship will even last the rest of the tour, much less forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This story contains sexually explicit and sensitive ("triggering") content, excessive swearing and the occasional Oxford comma. Read at your own discretion.
> 
> This fic was originally housed on Mibba, and is my July Camp '17. This fic is part of a completed series of 5 stories.

Converse-clad toe tapping, Findlay checked her guitars for the umpteenth time before she strolled on stage to begin her sound check, giving her bandmates the thumbs-up. The Heathens didn’t have a budget for a guitar tech, so she had developed a sort of paranoia about having three or four freshly-strung guitars on standby, just in case one of hers broke a string, fell ridiculously out of tune, or was otherwise irreparably damaged. It had happened too many times in the past - caught out on stage without a backup, trying to restring a guitar between tunes or, even worse, during one!

Her spare guitars - save one - were all much cheaper than her beloved ESP LTD ECs, and she had only been able to afford one flat black and one deep red from the line. “Rock star” didn't afford as lucrative salary as people thought, at least not for a rising star. Her favorite guitars were set up identically, but the other pair of “pawn shop cheapies” tended to be significantly more difficult to play and were only to be used in case of a dire emergency. Secretly, she coveted the racks of Schecters used by the Avenged guys, often wondering if they had a sponsorship or if they were just that rich.

The petite guitarist tossed her dyed grey locks as she strummed the matte black guitar against her torso, running scales up the neck before she dropped her D and started to play one of the songs that wasn’t on the setlist that night. Finn was small, topping out at 5’2” on a good day if she was standing up straight, with fair skin and smokey grey eyes that were emphasized by her dyed hair. She had a bright space-themed sleeve of tattoos on her left arm, and a collection of random designs on her right, including the circle of fifths. She was something of an addict and had plenty of other tattoos under her clothes, but the weather in England in the winter was far too cold to expose any of them onstage.

The Heathens, a four-piece metalcore band, had somehow gotten a deal to open for Avenged Sevenfold for the month and a half they were in the U.K. - a deal that proved tinge almost as expensive as it was lucrative, but proved to be a good career choice considering all the press hits and merch sales they had made. Their show was less of a production than Avenged’s, but the kids had stage presence. At least in their most humble opinions.

After two weeks on the road with them, Finn was almost used to seeing members of Avenged in the wings as she warmed up. Almost. She nearly flubbed part of her exaggerated solo when she noticed Brian and Zacky from the former group, leaning against each other’s shoulders and murmuring into one another’s ears. Finn could have sworn they were gesturing at her.

As she stared, she nearly missed her cue to harmonize with Toric, the Heathen’s lead singer, during the chorus.

“Fucking hell, Finn, where’s your head at?” Tor asked into the mic between verses, poking her in the ribs with a meaty finger. She answered with an exaggerated chord progression, shifting the neck of her guitar aggressively at her twin brother until he moved away, his hands raised in exasperation. The pair didn't look as much like twins. Even though they were born premature, Tor topped out at 6’3”, a towering, muscular figure topped with unruly blond curls that were currently semi-tamed with an undercut. The beginnings of a wolf and evergreen trees sleeve on one arm disappeared under his t-shirt, the other sported a black and white lion and roses motif. The easiest way to tell the pair were siblings was their matching eyes. And the fact that they bickered like siblings.

Behind him, Max the bassist chuckled and plopped down on an amp, satisfied with the volume levels of his instrument through the speakers and his ear. Max was also tall - then again, who wasn't to the 5’2” guitarist? - with a shock of wavy brown hair that he pulled back into a “man bun” that Finn had yet to give up teasing him for. He had bright green eyes and a pair of lip piercings, and a Ville Valo-esque designed sleeve up his left arm, his right containing a smattering of different tattoos.

Jay beat out a satisfied staccato, testing his symbols out with a resounding crash. He was shorter than the other two men, a respectable 5’10” with “Thor hair” as he called, blond curls that tumbled down his shoulders, with deep brown eyes. Jay was by far the most tattooed of the group, with two sleeves and more ink creeping up his neck from under his shirt.

Finn was the only female of the four-piece metal band, and one of a small group of female guitarists in metal period. It was that fact that meant they were more popular than they had a right to be on their own - popular enough, in fact, to be opening for Avenged on the UK leg of their European tour.

As she finger-picked a solo, guitar pick in her mouth, Finn spared a glance over at the pair of Avenged guitarists on the side of the stage, who had start to apply mic pacs to their jeans. They were totally about to stomp on their warm-up, she realized.

“Hey, Tor,” She jerked her chin up towards the two guitarists, who were oblivious to the Heathen’s notice of their conference, and gathered Max and Tor by Jay’s extensive drum kit - a kit he shared with Brooks from the aforementioned band. “Is today the day?”

She referred to the song they had learned just to fuck with the members of the much more famous band. At this point in the tour, she was fairly certain their reaction would be more of a laugh rather than anger, and she lifted an eyebrow at her partners in crime.

“I mean, fuck it. If we don’t, what did we learn it for?”

“They’ll be crippled for a few minutes,” Max added, nodding to the amps which were still tuned to their frequencies and the guitarists from Avenged wouldn't be able to stomp on their soundcheck. “I mean, it can be done,”

Without waiting for an acquiescence from Jay, Finn let her fingers explore the fretboard for a minute, stalking away from her bandmates as she struck the iconic opening chords of “Shepherd of Fire.”

Out of the corner of her eye she watched two dark-haired heads snap toward her as Max joined in with a rocking bass line. Without two guitars, the sound was a little bit hollow at first, but that was rectified in the bars before the verse began as Finn was able to do double duty as a first and second guitarist with some improvised fretwork.  
The lithe guitarist grinned wickedly at her singer as she harmonized with him, and then directed her mirth toward the pair of nearly dumbstruck guitarists in the wings - though, she noted, it seemed as though Brian had selected one of her guitars off the stand and adjusted the strap as if he aimed to take the solo from her.

She was pleasantly surprised when the man - a legend in his own right - chose to take the lower harmony. Though it was no easier than the solo, it simply wasn’t the high-flying bravado he had written for himself. His fingers flowed over the neck of one of her guitars as he crossed the side stage to stand beside her, making her feel like a clumsy wanna-be with his nonchalant skill. And that shit-eating grin.

Finn threw her head back to laugh as she struck the solo, shaking her long grey locks down her back, her eyes closed as she focused on the melody she remembered. To her knowledge, she only fucked up once, and when she popped back up to harmonize with Tor, she almost bashed her face into Brian’s as he leaned into the mic.  
The man was the biggest fan of his own music, and it was extremely endearing. They had gone out drinking with the other bands on tour once or twice - for some reason, Chevelle had made themselves a scarcity since the bands had started out, - but it was difficult to fraternize with people who were literal legends. Finn much preferred this interaction - like a pair of teenagers having a jam sesh. In front of an empty stadium.

As usual, she could hardly tear her eyes off the man as he played. He was a wonder, his style so easy and fluid she couldn’t help but envy him. Finn had a tendency to sit and watch their sets, which came after the Heathen’s, just to watch him play. There was a level of comfort he had with the stage, born of natural skill and the fact that he had been playing for crowds since his teens. Idly, she wondered how old the members of Avenged were as she listened to Tors scratchy vocals rasping a fair imitation of Matt’s. Her twin’s voice was deeper than the Avenged singer’s, but that only served to make his tone smoother as he sung the melodies.

She knew Matt's speaking voice was much deeper than his singing voice, and she added the question of why to her infinite list of things to ask the men as she started to improvise a solo at the end of the song, fingers flying up the neck of her ESP. It seemed Brian recognized the arpeggio she used as a base for the solo and his fingers flew with hers on her spare guitar. For a moment, they stared at each other, her brow furrowed in concentration and his lips quirked in that shit-eating grin that got panties thrown at him on stage.

Damn he was hot. And so, so far out of her league.

After a moment’s pause, she returned the grin and struck her last chord, searching for some gritty feedback to check the levels in her amps. Too high and the screech would be deafening.

With a satisfied nod, Finn closed her fingers over the strings, both hands resting where the neck met the body.

“Didn't know we'd have a guest,” She called with a grin as Brian clapped a hand on her narrow shoulder.

“Couldn't resist! I've been looking to play with you for a while,” Finn was shocked by exactly how sexual that statement sounded, but smiled as she flirted with the legend on her stage.

“A soundcheck hardly counts,” She retorted, less than smoothly as the pair crossed the stage to where her little rack of guitars sat, dwarfed by rows of Schecters that dominated the immediate backstage corridor.

“I’m sure we can fix that. You guys going out for drinks tonight?”

“Maybe. We usually start in the lobby though, so you’ll find us.”

With a wink, Finn turned to put her guitar on the rack listening to the guitarist return for his soundcheck.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ok, but out of the four of you, who gets the most tail?”

The nine of them lounged in a large booth in the back of a smoky pub, the table in front of them covered with empty mugs but for the ones in their hands. Finn sat next to Brian, sharing a cigarette with her newfound friend. His arm had snaked up around the back of the booth and Finn could feel the heat radiating off his skin after the gig.

“Ok, wait wait wait. You guys first,” She managed to interject before the rest of the Heathens could sell her out, waving her cigarette-filled hand emphatically in front of her brother before he had a chance to open his mouth.

“What, afraid of what they'll say?” Zacky quipped beside Toric, laughing.

“Used to be Matt,” Johnny offered helpfully, with a wicked grin. “But now I reckon it's… well it's either you or you,” He pointed at Brooks and Brian in turn before he crushed out his cigarette. Brooks and Brian were the only single members of the group, so it wasn't exactly a fair assumption.

“Nah, Matt still gets the most when Val is around,” Brian deflected the blow to the grinning singer.

“She wants another kid,” He admitted with a shrug, rubbing his beard. “But… back in the heyday? Me. Jimmy. Zacky -”

“Baby face,” The guitarist admitted to Max’s raised eyebrow.

“- Johnny. Then Brian. Sorry Brian.” Matt finished, looking at their drummer. “Brooks was in a punk band, though…”

“I bet my number’s the highest,” Brooks asserted, with a wicked smile.

“Oh, I know someone who could give you a run for your money,” Jay laughed uproariously, looking at a slowly-flushing Finn. Brian withdrew his arm, leaning away from the petite guitarist as if he was trying to size her up.

“Well, fuck,”

“Partially my fault,” Several sets of wide eyes focused on her brother as Toric grinned wickedly. “It was a bet. Kind of a competition but…”

“You fucking lost,” Finn murmured, finishing her drink gamely. An ice cube from her whiskey and diet fell down her cleavage and she fished it out at the guys watched - several pairs of hungry eyes and an eye roll from her brother made her realize what she was doing was incredibly sexual.

“I didn't fuck enough and that's why I lost!”

“What were the details of this… bet?” Brian asked with a wicked grin, his eyebrow raised as he gazed at the ice cube in her fingers. She tossed it into the glass in front of her just to be rid of the thing, asking for another pair of drinks for herself as the waitress buzzed by.

“Do you want anything?”

“Another round! And an answer!” Zacky cried, his hands raised.

“Fucking fine! Jesus Christ,”

“It’s Johnny on Saturdays,” The bassist in question quipped. Finn sighed heavily and accepted a pair of new drinks from the waitress, taking a hearty glug of one as she set the other on the table. She chased the drink with her cigarette. Her bandmates had fallen strangely silent, waiting for her to explain.

“Dunno why I’m embarrassed. If I was a guy you’d probably sing my praises.”

“And since you’re a girl?” Brian asked, trying to cover for Matt who - on the end of the booth, closest to the waitress - was trying to surreptitiously order a shot for everyone.

“Usually get called a slut for this one,” She murmured, tossing her hair behind her shoulders as she squared them with a wry smile. “The bet was a different lay in every town.”

“Wait, you made that bet with your brother?” Zacky seemed astonished at the thought, staring at Toric in disbelief.

“She’s my fucking twin. What’s a little healthy competition amongst siblings?” The twin in question asked, winking. “And it wasn’t just us, these two just have no head for competition,” He said, pointing at Jay and Max, who shrugged and looked disgusted in turn.

“How long was the tour?” Brian seemed interested, leaning against the table to stare at the grey-haired guitarist beside him.

“It was… uh, what, fifty shows? It was fucking expensive is what it was.”

“That’s touring, babe.” Zacky reached across Brian’s back to tweak Finn’s nose, which she scrunched indignantly.

“Wait. Did you sleep with someone different every night?” Matt seemed mystified as the shots were delivered, almost managing to ignore the very insistent British waitress.

“Fucking won, didn’t I?” Finn declared, leaning back with her hands clasped behind her neck, tonguing one of her teeth. “Fuck yeah I did.”

“It was easy?” Johnny asked, passing shots down the line. Brian set one next to one of Finn’s drinks, his eyes unreadable as he gazed at the grey-haired guitarist. “Sounds like it’d be a chore after a while.”

“Not for Findlay fucking O'Shaughnessy,” Max piped, knowing he had lost by the widest margin. “Just wait until you see her in action.”

“There’s, like, twenty dates left on this leg,” Brooks interjected, holding a shot aloft.

“That’s plenty of time. That’s, like, a month.”

“Ok, please let’s not toast to my fucking sex life, dickheads,” Findlay held her glass up like Brooks, daring the men around her to do so. Matt sat on the end, next to Jay, bordered by Zacky, Brian and Toric to her left, with Max, Johnny and Brooks on the other side of the table.

“To legends,” Jay supplied, wickedly. Before she could protest, the shot glasses started to clatter to the table. They began to pair off into conversations, Toric and Matt shouting across the table at one another. It was like they were all talking about their instruments.

“Honestly though, you’ve got chops kid.” Zacky reached across the table to ruffle her hair like Toric usually did with a kind smile. “Did you learn Shepherd of Fire just for the hell of it?”

“Well, kinda. Listened to y’all play it e-fucking-nough,”

“What do you mean?” Brian’s eyebrows had spent so much time at the top of his head that Finn was worried they would pop off his head. “You just listened to us play it and…”

“Yeah. I have perfect pitch. Blessing and a -”

“Finn!”

“Fuck, Tor, you’re right fucking here,” She turned her face so her volume was directed right at her twin, but as usual the lesson was lost on the blond-haired man. His curls stood on edge, it was obvious he had been running his hands through his hair.

“A question has been submitted for you,”

“Is this about my fucking sex life again, because I swear to god you maggots, I’ll -”

“If you could fuck any one of us right now, who would it be?” Brooks blurted from the other end of the booth. Finn’s eyebrows knit together and she took a giant gulp of her drink.

“Ok, what the actual fuck, Brooks? One of you is my brother and I think three of you are fucking married,”

“Obviously not Tor -” was the petulant retort. She cut it off.

“We were having a nice conversation over here about guitars,”

“No, no, you go on, Finn, I’m interested to hear this,” Zacky waved a hand, shouting for another round of shots. They were going to hurt in the morning, certainly.

“Not fair. Because if I asked all of you the same question, the answer would be -”

“You!” The chorus of replies was overwhelming, and the lithe guitarist leaned back against the booth, her drink in hand as she crossed her legs on the booth, a knee in Tor’s lap and the other nestled against Brian’s thigh. She stared around as the men waited impatiently for her answer.

“Fucking hell. Alright, you rat bastards. Fine, I’ll answer your shitty question, again. Peer pressure really works, doesn’t it?” She pointed at Max with a calloused finger. “Get me another shot,”

“Fuck, I thought you were going to say me,”

“What, like that’s a fucking death sentence?!” Finn let her hand slap on the table and grabbed her drink, finishing the first one of the pair she had ordered. “Fine. God damn you all. I wouldn’t fuck any of you Heathens,” She admitted, glaring at her bandmates, who broke into relieved laughter. “But out of you fucks,” Finn regarded the members of Avenged one at a time, sizing each of them up.

“Out of you, I’d fuck… Matt.” The man in question raised his eyebrows, and Finn sighed. “What, you’re really all my fucking type. Don’t take it personally.”

It seemed as if the bearded man did, his head almost seemed to swell under her level gaze. Finn rolled her eyes, swearing.

“Truly, it’s because I know I can’t have you. You’re married, man, shut the fuck up,” She lit a new cigarette off Brian’s lighter that she had taken off the table, gesturing with it clasped between her two fingers.

“You ever screw a married man?” Matt asked, his husky voice dangerously low over the cacophony of the bar.

“Not that I know of, and you’re not gonna be the fucking first. Fuck off,”

Brian threw his head back with laughter, a Marlboro clutched in the “marl” of his knuckles.

“You hear that, Shadows? You’ve been turned down!”

“Not fair! Just ‘cause I’m married,”

“I’m not fucking anyone tonight, shitheads. Get off the subject or go get yourselves off,”

“Damn, she’s fucking feisty, It’s cute,”

“I’m not fucking cute, Zacky,” She mocked, waving her cigarette under his nose. The man in question tore it from her fingers and took a slow puff before he returned it to the lithe guitarist.

“It must be so hard for you to look so fucking cool all the time,” She spat, taking her cigarette back. “I’m going to bed.”

That was met with a chorus of regret from the men, apologies were made hastily for having a half an hours worth of fun at her expense.

“Seriously, Finn, don’t go to bed, we’re just poking fun,”

“Fine, let me poke back,” She glared at the black-haired guitarist next to her, as the slow smile spread across his face.

“Shoot,”

“How many women have you slept with?” The rest of the table had started up their individual conversations, and she sat staring into the cocky guitarist’s deep brown eyes.

“Fuck, you want me to count?” He sighed, ashing his cigarette into one of her empty whiskey glasses. Without his guitar, he wasn’t as intimidating - or nearly as sexy, she had to admit, which was why she had chosen Matt out of all of them to fuck - but his brown eyes were searching rather than tired, almost bright and smiling as they regarded the grey-haired guitarist next to him.

“Guesstimate,” She realized her voice was hoarse from shouting at the guys all night, which did not bode well for the next night.

“I mean, fuck, Finn, I have no idea. Always had a… girlfriend and then, after that…” She raised a questioning eyebrow, willing him to finish the thought. “A fair few. If you need a number… like, probably more than you slept with on that tour,”

“Sense some animosity in that statement, Haner,” She said, crushing the cigarette out into the ashtray. “And it wasn’t an answer.”

“Jealousy, kinda. Probably hundreds.”

She made as if to grab another cigarette to cover her raised eyebrows, but withdrew her hand from the pack after a moment and finished her drink instead.

“Think I’m out of smokes, care to escort me for a new pack?”

“Forward,”

“How so? Tor’d be worried if I go wandering around… what fucking town is this? If I go fucking wandering around alone.” Her grin was wicked, but she really only wanted another pack. Or a few, for the group.

“Fine, let’s get going,” The pair inched their way out of the booth over unwilling laps and legs.


	3. Chapter 3

Finn threw a tattered and patched jean jacket over a black hoodie as they walked into the chilly night, proud that she only stumbled slightly in her altered state. The other guitarist put an arm around her waist as if to steady her, and since it was a warm arm she didn't shrug it off.

“You know, you're one of the only female guitarists we've ever toured with,” Brian began as they walked slowly down the street.

“There aren't many of us, that's for sure. Girls are supposed to sing,” She put on a goonish voice for the last sentence, scrunching her face.

“Music is funny that way isn't it? And how even though you're not the front of the band, you kind of are?”

“People that don't know us think I'm a singer all the time. It's fucking bizarre.”

“You're good though, kid. Couple years of polish and you're going to be in all the magazines,”

“Polish, huh? Bet I can play anything you can,” The older guitarist looked down at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Sure. But it's all in the style.”

“Easy for you to say. When you've got a guitar in your hands I can't take my eyes off you.”

“And now?”

“You're just a thirty-something dude with an attitude problem,” Brian snorted at the kind-hearted jest, pulling her almost imperceptibly closer to his side. “Brian, the way you play… that can't be learned. You got it or you don't.”

“You ever watch yourself play?” Finn gave a start, it was something she had never considered, really, and she shook her head no. “Alright, hang on. We’ll watch a video on the way back.”

The pair had reached the corner store, and Brian -citing advanced age and wealth - bought them each a pack and “a couple for the table.”

Back outside with a carrier bag full of tobacco, Finn packed the new pack against the heel of her hand as Brian searched for a video on his phone.

“Look,” He thrust a cracked iPhone into her hands, and the grey-haired guitarist squinted at the video, leaning against the wall outside the corner store. She accepted the cigarette he offered her as she watched a petite girl with a shock of long grey hair stalk across the stage, strumming furiously until she reached an amp to place her foot on. The solo was almost sexual.

“Well then,”

“You seriously never watch shows of your gigs?”

“Why would I? I think the guys do, but I’d just focus on what I do wrong.”

“Can’t help you with that, but you’ve definitely go it, kid.”

Finn realized he stood with an arm braced by her head, looking down at the screen upside-down. She enjoyed the closeness, but wasn’t sure if it was because he blocked the wind. He certainly could stand on his own, so it wasn’t the result of drunkenness.

“Why do you keep calling me kid?” She asked after a moment, her eyes stubbornly glued to the screen. After all the confident talk of her sex life, she wasn’t feeling very confident herself - even in the face of Brian’s kind compliments of her playing - otherwise, she would have boldly made eye contact.

The “boro” of his Marlboro-tattooed fingers closed over the screen of his phone and he pushed off the wall, shoving the phone in his pocket. He held his arm out to Finn and she slipped under it, gazing up at the man through her thick lashes. He wasn’t that tall, truly, but still had at least half a foot on the petite guitarist. Then again, it wasn’t that difficult to tower over the tiny twin.

“Great question. Not sure. Probably because you’re small and, like, ten years younger than me.”

“Don’t think so.”

“I hate to break it to you, Findlay, but you’re pretty fucking short,”

“I meant I’m probably not ten years younger than you, ass!” He had known exactly what she meant, she figured by the sly smile on his face, but for some reason the man’s needles had a way of getting her fired up.

“Oh yeah? What year were you born?”

“‘89!”

“Wait, so you’re… 27?”

“Good mental math there,” She quipped, jabbing a finger into his ribs.

“Comes with the territory. So you’re 27, on a world tour, at the top of your game… Where do you go next, Ms. Shredder?”

“Shredder huh? That’s not one I’ve gotten before. You sound like an interviewer.” Finn waved a hand before she took a drag of her cigarette. After a moment’s thought, she looped the carrier bag over her wrist and reached to thread her fingers through the hand that dangled over her shoulder. The palm of his fret hand was calloused in a way she couldn’t contribute to playing guitar, but his fingers were blunt and hard as they closed around the meat of her palm.

“I guess we go back to Boston to work on a new album.”

“All the way on the east coast?”

“My biggest problem with it is it’s all the way up north. We’ve been thinking on relocating but you know...”

“I don’t, what’s holding you back?”

The pair were walking very slowly as they smoked, and as Finn considered his question, she wondered what exactly she was getting herself into. Gingerly, she held the cigarette between her teeth as she adjusted her hair from under his arm, giving herself another moment to think.

“I’ll take irrational excuses for $1000, Trebek,” She said finally, with a sigh. “It’s not like Tor and I have anything to ground us.”

“You don’t live near your family?”

“Kinda estranged, really. On account of mom was a crackhead and we don’t know the sperm donor. Do you even read the interviews?” Finn quipped. Brian’s hand squeezed hers gently.

“That fucking blows,”

“Yeah, shit happens.”

His thumb ran over the meat of hers, and the younger guitarist realized she was going to have to break away from him before she became putty in his hands. She flicked her cigarette out into the cobblestone street and wrapped her arm around his narrow waist instead of taking her own advice. The man was masterful - she hadn’t realized how she had been manipulated until she was in the thick of it. It was a song and dance she was used to performing to get what she wanted.

“Damn you’re good,” She admitted after a moment, and withdrew her arm from under his to fumble for another cigarette from her back pocket. He had a lighter ready.

“Good at what?” His voice was innocent, but there was no mistaking the wicked grin on his face. He knew exactly what she meant. “I’m surprised it took you this long to get the memo,”

She breathed in to tell him she had his memo before he wrote it, but knew he wouldn’t believe her. Finn was used to being the object of attention and affection, but usually she was the one with the reigns.

“Interesting,” He seemed to be steering her toward the hard stone wall of the pub their bandmates sat in, facing her with an arm still casually draped around her shoulders, and she stopped before he could press her back to it. His answer was a questioning grunt, his head tilted to the side. “Don’t think I can do what you’re asking. Not with you,”

“Would you prefer I were Matt?” He joked dryly, but didn’t let go of her hand as he touched the tip of another cigarette to hers.

“Ah, fuck you. Not a question of attraction, Haner. It’s that I don’t shit where I eat.” The tilt of his head didn’t change, but he took a step toward her. Her step back brought her back against the wall, right where he wanted her but also right where she so irrationally wanted to be.

“What’s a couple months?” Brian’s breath hovered above her lips, and she turned to take a drag of her cigarette, causing him to straighten and follow suit. “I’m not gonna push you. Just letting you know I’m interested.”

With half a smile, Finn stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to his, the fingers holding her cigarette pressed against the back of his neck so the burning cherry was far from his (probably highly flammable) coif. His arm held her neck captive, his cigarette-occupied hand rested against the small of her back, palm pressing into the dimples above the waistband of her jeans.

After a long moment, she pulled away with a grin, pressing her cigarette to her lips to hold before she reached to wipe a trace of lipstick off his lower lip with her thumb. The shade - such a dark red it was almost black - was usually very long-lasting and resistant to smudging. Apparently his kiss had just been that good. Absently, she wondered what her face looked like.

“And I’m telling you I’m a fucking idiot.”

His lips wrapped around her thumb and he grazed it with his teeth, his eyes closed.

“Ah, fuck, a huge fucking idiot,” She murmured through the cigarette as she reclaimed her hand, using her pointer to wipe under her lip and looked at her finger in the darkness to see exactly how much of her lipstick had migrated south. “We gotta get back in there,”

Brian grunted his disapproval, but with a squeeze he released her hand and withdrew his arm slowly over her shoulders, caressing the back of her head for a moment as he gazed into her eyes.

“I’d say you’re wrong, but what good would that do?”

“Jack shit, I’m stubborn as hell.”

“Duly noted.” Before she realized what had happened, his mouth was on hers again, tongue hungrily searching past her teeth. She let him take advantage for a moment, let the butterflies in her stomach flutter, before she pushed back against his chest with her palm.

“Fucking hell, Haner,” She pulled out her phone, intent to try and fix her lipstick as well as she could one handed as he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve with an impish grin. Finn couldn’t kid herself that their little session would go unnoticed - at the very least, Toric would know something was up - but at least she didn’t have to look like she made out with a superstar in an alley. Ok, next to an alley.

His hand closed over her phone and he relieved her of it, navigating to her contacts smoothly as he smoked the last of his cigarette.

The worst part was that she wanted to do it again, she mused as she watched him tap his number into her phone. Damn, she was going to have to have a heart-to-heart with her twin.

As if he read her thoughts, Haner slipped her phone into her back pocket and took her arm to lead her back into the pub.


	4. Chapter 4

“I knew it! I saw his beady little eyes light up when you said you slept with anything with a dick!”

She and Tor were getting ready for bed in their hotel room - unlike the members of Avenged, they had to share even if the hotel wasn’t completely booked - and her twin was exclaiming about her tryst as Finn removed the last of her ill-fated lipstick, leaving most of her makeup intact. Really, she didn’t always go so heavy on the lip color, but she had been feeling decidedly goth with the rain in the UK recently.

“Shut the fuck up, Tor, you know that’s not true. I’ve got standards.”

“Yeah, they’re just fucking low.” She rocketed one of the soap bars from the vanity at his head through the door of the bathroom, which he dodged annoyingly.

“At least he’s hot,” Tor admitted finally, plopping down on his bed with the remote. Finn flopped down on the side of his bed, face down in the comforter.

“Have you seen him play? Fucking hell, Tor. He could play me like that any day,”

“Why didn’t you let him? Why aren’t you down there now?”

The question frustrated the grey-haired guitarist, and she popped up off the bed to pace around the bedroom.

“I don’t fucking know. If I were a bigger slut I would have done him right there.”

“Well, you are that big of a slut, so I don’t believe that for one minute. I think you actually have the hots for him, Ms. Damaged Goods.”

“Are you saying I don’t sleep with men I’m attracted to?” She shot back, pausing her pacing momentarily to stare at her twin in horror.

“No, no, no! I’m saying you only get like this when you’re interested in a relationship.”

“Fuck you, I do not,”

“Whatever, Finn. I’ve been here for 27 years, I know what you do. Go figure you’d want a little romance with a guitar god.” He said dryly, absently flipping through channels until he found the TV guide. “I, for one, am absolutely shocked.”

“Fucking… fuck!” Finn threw herself down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. “He was so fucking smooth, Tor. I didn’t even realize what he was doing until I was in up to my eyeballs.”

“What do you have to lose, really?” Tor asked after a moment’s pause, as he flipped toward a porn channel. The UK was so strange, Finn thought as she rolled her eyes and dug her way under her comforter with her phone in hand, staring at a one-word text.

‘Downstairs?’ He had sent it fifteen minutes ago

“I don’t know. It’s so fucking irrational, Tor, really. I know he’s down there at the bar right now - probably. And I want to go down there so bad -”

“Then just go!”

“What if he thinks I’m -”

“He already at least knows you’re a slut, sis, and that didn’t hold him back. Get dressed and go back down there. Look like you’re about to roll into bed. His bed.”

“Do I text him? Do I just go?” Finn protested even as she rolled out of bed and hopped into a pair of tattered jeans, almost putting her foot through the holes in the knee in her haste. She pulled on a dark grey bralette and was about to throw on a tattered t-shirt - with the sleeves and neck cut out - when her twin interjected.

“NOT that shirt, Finn!” She realized she was about to hop down to grab drinks with Brian in an Avenged shirt. Good job, Findlay. She exchanged it for a similarly torn 69 Eyes shirt and tied it at the waist, showing just a sliver of skin.

“Thanks, Tor. You’re the best.”

“Number one.” She stuck her tongue out at her brother and checked her eyes in the mirror to make sure they were appropriately smudged before she darted out the door.

Finn used her reflection in the elevator door to reapply the lipstick she found in the front pocket of her jeans with her credit card. She was going to need another fucking drink and a cigarette for this.

She could see him - or rather, his coif - from the elevator, and she crossed the empty lobby to the equally as empty bar. Brian’s phone rested flat on the bar and he seemed to be scrolling through instagram as he sipped a glass of what looked like scotch.

“Hey stranger,” Finn murmured as she slid onto the stool beside him. His head popped up, a slow smile spreading over his face as he recognized the grey-haired guitarist.

“Didn’t think you’d be back down here,” He admitted, motioning to the bartender to join them. “What’re you having?”

“Depends, what are you having?”

“Scotch.” She rolled her eyes, waiting for more of an explanation. “Ah, right. Glenmorangie.”

“Can I have a glass of the Laphroaig? Ten year is cool. How big are your ice cubes?” The bartender looked confused, and dug one out of the well in front of him to hold it up. “Two of those. Thanks!”

“Interesting taste,”

“Glenmorangie is too sweet, I like a peatier taste.”

“How is it you’re still single?” Brian asked with a laugh as he put the screen of his phone to sleep, letting that same hand swoop down to rest on Finn’s knee. The grey-haired guitarist raised an eyebrow as she accepted the scotch from the bartender with her thanks, taking a deep sniff of the dark brown liquid before she took a sip.

“Been told I’m a little intimidating,” She admitted finally, watching as Brian rotated her right arm in his hands, inspecting her circle of fifths tattoo. His fingers were buried between hers as he traced the spiral of the fibonacci sequence just above the circle of fifths.

“I could see why,”

Finn was content to let Brian inspect her tattoos quietly, his fingers cool against her skin. His callouses were a comfort really, she mused as he reached for her left arm, where there was considerably more to take in. Her left arm was a space-inspired sleeve, filled with swirling galaxies, stars and three planets encompassed in a dark blue sky-scape punctuated by purples and pinks.

"This is fucking gorgeous." He said finally, tapping her forearm with a slender finger as he recaptured her strumming hand in his.

Those deep brown eyes weren't tired, they were heavily lidded and lusty, Finn realized as she gazed at the guitarist.

"Hurt like a bitch, truthfully." She nodded down at his arms, covered in a jacket. "You have a fair few too,"

"Yeah, yeah, they're old news."

"So's Andromeda here," She shook her left arm at him before she took a sip of her scotch. He looked intrigued that she had named her arm. "I think she turns ten this year. First tattoo."

"You fucking dove in, shit Finn," She hadn't heard him say her name before and she reveled in the sound of his faint Cali accent as he said it.

"I guess I don't really do half assed," The grey-haired guitarist admitted after a moment, pulling a nearly crushed pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket so she could sit more comfortably.

"I see that," He ran his hand through her hair, pushing it back over her shoulder before he produced a lighter for her cigarette - and pulled his own cigarette at the same time somehow, she noticed with a little shocked. He was skilled with his hands that was certain.

"So," He began as he put the lighter away, taking a sharp drag of his cigarette. "Talk shop to me. Who's your favorite guitarist?"

“To be honest, Mark Knopfler. Dire Straits has such a sweet style even if they ripped off some of their own songs. And Joan Jett - reminds me to keep it simple when I want to get too technical.” She leaned back against the bar stool’s low back, cracking the top of her spine as she reached backwards with her tattooed arms. The bar had begun to empty out, seeing as it was at least 1:00 - Finn couldn’t be sure, because she hadn’t checked her phone since she arrived at the bar, and it seemed she and Haner had been talking for somewhere between half an hour and three days.

“How technical is too technical?”

“Like Dragonforce technical - like, nobody can play this at tempo technical,” Brian pursed his lips and nodded as she turned the question back to him.

“Slash. Without a doubt. I think for the same reason, though. It’s not technical skill, but style.”

“Well, when you’re as fucking technical as you are, I can get that. I should probably pick fucking Vai or Malmsteen, but you know.” She reached across him to grab the ashtray and pulled it back to sit between them so she could ash. When she sat back on her stools his eyebrows were raised, eyes fixed on her hips before he drew his attention upward.

“You’re great technically, Finn. You’ve got room to grow, but I only say that because everyone’s got fucking room to grow.”

“From you, it kinda sounds like sage advice,”

“Nah, I’m just an old dude that plays guitar,”

Finn laughed at him, letting her fingers rest over his hand on her knee. He turned his palm under hers, stroking the underside of her wrist with his calloused fret fingers.

“You’re not that old. Really, once you’ve hit twenty-five, nothing matters until you’re forty, right?”

“That sounds like sage advice,” He murmured with a chuckle, resting his cigarette in the ashtray so he could take a swig of his scotch. As she set her glass next to his, he reached to pull her chair closer by one of the chair legs between her dangling knees.

“A more sage advisor would have stayed in her room tonight,”

“I’m glad you’re not a sage,” Brian’s body was dangerously close to hers. He pulled her hair behind her ear as he bent to press his lips to the space between her ear and hairline. His touch sent a shiver down her spine.

“Be lying if I didn’t say this doesn’t seem in my best interest,”

“Why would you say that?” He asked into her ear, his lips brushed against her piercings. She could feel the butterflies, big as condors, flapping around her stomach, but she took a breath of her cigarette and set it in the ashtray next to his. Her hand moved as if it had a will of its own, sinking into his thick mohawked hair.

“‘Cause usually, I’m not the nervous one.”

“Don’t like not being in charge, Findlay?” His murmur was hot against the corner of her lips - if he didn’t cool it, she was going to jump him right there in that hotel bar.

“Fuck no I don’t.”

“I would let you be in charge but I’m not sure if it’d get us anywhere,”

“It’s weird,” She reached for her cigarette abruptly and chased her puff with a gulp. Brian looked at her flatly, toying with her hair as he waited for an answer. “I don’t know, Brian, this isn’t my usual shtick. I’m used to being the player.”

“Ah, you point and suddenly he’s in your bed?” Brian asked, sweeping his fingers out of her hair and sat up with a chuckle. “I’m shocked by that, truly,”

“Oh, fuck off,” Finn shook her finger at his dry sarcasm, chugging down the last of her scotch.

“Don’t blame you, I seem to be having some trouble with my charm over here, too,”

“Do you want to go someplace more private and try to work on that?” Bold move, Cotton. Let’s see how this works out for her.

“Back in control, huh?” His grin was wicked as he flagged down the bartender, requesting the rest of the Laphroaig for the road. In the end, he had to have it delivered to the room with glasses (and rocks for Finn), but she let him lead her by the hand through the empty lobby, his jacket slung over his opposite shoulder with two fingers.


	5. Chapter 5

“Pretty jealous y’all don’t have to share rooms. Know how old shacking up with your brother gets?” She murmured as he fiddled with the room key, letting them in finally after swiping the card in several different directions. Truthfully, they had been sharing rooms - or at least a house - their entire lives, so it wasn’t out of the blue. But it was difficult not to be jealous in the face of what seemed like opulence to the tiny guitarist.

“I think I can imagine. We had to do a lot of room sharing back in the day.” He showed the lithe guitarist into his room and locked the door behind them, his hand on the small of her back. She turned in his grasp, taking the initiative and reaching her hands up to run through his hair once more. He threaded his fingers behind the small of her back and leaned to fix his lips on hers, his dark eyes partially closed.

As she walked him backward into the wall, she realized he had let her take control, his kisses hungry but his touch light. Finn let one hand travel to his chest, feeling a pec she knew had been hidden by his baggy shirt, then down to hook into the waistband of his pants. Brian pushed his body against hers with a grunt, and his hands dropped to squeeze her ass none-too-gently.

She changed directions and began to relieve him of his shirt, slowly pulling the garment over his head. He was reluctant to let go of her, but helped her pull the shirt off over his head with a hand behind his shoulders and dropped it to the ground as she ran her hands down his abs, admiring his tattoos.

Roughly, the man dragged her waist to his by the belt loops of her jeans and nipped at her collarbones, a smile playing at his lips. His hands turned at her waist and dragged up her sides, taking her shirt up with them. She flung her shirt away as he spun her so her back hit the mirror, his hands hungry at her sides until he noticed the tattoos that had been hidden under the torn-up t-shirt.

“Well fuck, that’s a surprise,” Brian’s calloused thumbs grazed over the lion that sat stoically under her breasts for a moment before he inched them up under her bralette, pulling it up so he could see the whole piece - a proud lion, nearly matching her brother’s sleeve but with splashes of watercolor, its mane flowing toward the sides of her chest - and exposing the underside of her meager chest in the process.

“Glad you like it, I guess?” She had more, but it seemed he was easily distracted by her body rather than the art etched into it.

His lips sunk into her cleavage, one hand at her side and the other on her breast, both pulling her into his body and creating a ledge of her breast for his teeth to nibble. Just as he started to nuzzle the fabric of her bralette to the side with his nose there was a knock at the door.

“Fuck,” His breath was hot on her skin, and she could feel his disappointment as he straightened, motioning for Finn to move out of sight as he turned to answer the door.

After a moment of wondering what she should do, the grey-haired guitarist perched on the edge of the bed, watching as the door slammed and Brian walked into sight with a bottle of scotch, two glasses, and an ice bucket tucked under one arm. Finn bounced up to relieve him of the bucket, and set it down next to the glasses on the desk as he uncorked the scotch. She plucked out two rocks and set them in one glass as he poured the other.

Finn snatched her glass from under his arm and took a hearty swallow of the fiery liquid, managing not to splutter as she did so. His lips were waiting when she opened her eyes again, and he relieved her of the glass as he took her by the waist, locking her hips to his.

“Let me see those tattoos, girl,” He murmured dangerously when they finally came up for air. He passed Finn back her drink and maneuvered her to the bed, pushing her down so gently she didn’t spill a drop of scotch.

The grey-haired guitarist pulled herself up to lean on one elbow as Haner inspected her lion - mainly with his lips - before he turned her slightly to explore the lotus flower and sanskrit on her right side. She took a swig of her scotch and reached to place it on the bedside table, with help from the tattooed guitarist. As soon as the glass left her hand, Brian’s fingers raked up under her bralette, relieving her of it over her head.

He inspected her tattoo, his fingers tracing the line work on her lion. Silently, he kissed his way up to her breasts, holding them together so he could nuzzle between them. Fucking hell, he was hot. Brian glanced up at her, his tawny eyes flashing as he took her nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before he sunk his teeth into it gently, teasing it taut between those pearly whites. His rough hands ran up her sides, holding her chest to his lips. She dug her hands into his hair, holding his face to her chest. His free hand tweaked her opposite nipple with a calloused thumb, and her toes curled in ecstasy.

“Fuck, Brian,” He chuckled at her moan, and he rested his chin on her sternum, a grin plastered on his face. He pulled himself up with his tattooed arms so his hips lay on hers - she could feel him hard through both of their jeans.

“Where do we go from here, Finn?” He asked, as if to put the control back in her hands. Hands that ran over his muscled shoulders as he held his torso over hers, and up the sides of his face to pull his lips down to hers.

“Fuck, I have no idea, Haner,” She murmured sarcastically, as she ran her fingertips down his side to the waistband of his jeans, and hooked them under the elastic waist of his boxers.

“After all that,” He was just as sarcastic, his lips at the underside of her chin as he rotated his shoulders back to lift his chin away from her hungry mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t know what I want, but whatever it is, I want to do it naked,” She admitted, looking up at guitarist suspended over her body as she started to feel at the buttons of his pants. He looked amused as she found the button and dragged the zipper of his jeans apart, exposing a pair of maroon boxer briefs and the swell of him against them.

“I can get behind that,” His voice was husky as he sunk his lips onto hers, lowering his body to elbow-height over hers. “Why don’t I start?”

Finn looked down at him, bemused as she settled onto the pillows, her arms behind her head as he started to kiss his way down her torso, his lips tantalizingly light against her skin. It was all she could do to keep from bucking against his lips as he kissed above her jeans, his fingers deft at their button and zipper. His body drew away from hers to his feet as he pulled the skin-tight, torn jeans off her feet gently, leaving her in her thong underneath him.

She squirmed - for lack of a better word - under his gaze to sit at the edge of the bed, her hands at his waist. Finn leaned to kiss his happy trail above the elastic band of his boxer briefs as she shucked the pants off of him, leaving him standing in his underwear.

“Naked, huh?”

“Not there yet,” She replied as he bent to draw her lips to his. Fuck, those fucking butterflies again. His hands pressed against her shoulders and pushed her back against the covers, and as he kissed her neck he dragged his fingers down her sides to relieve her of her panties, leaving her laying naked on her hotel bed. Brian’s body pressed against hers, so hard against her naked skin.

“You’re not there yet?” He asked, tantalizingly, and he pressed her back onto the bed as he lowered his lips to her bare sex, his breath warm on her before he ran his tongue up one of her lips to swirl around her clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” She let her head fall back against the bed as she swore at the man between her legs, his gentle laps at her slit. Silently, he slipped a finger into her, pumping in time with his tongue. As his strokes grew more aggressive she hissed his name, staring down at the man who had his million dollar fingers inside of her.

“Come for me, Finn,”

“Shit,” She threw her head back, giving into the sensation as he murmured into her clit. It only took a few more laps to drive her to her finish, and she moaned his name as she came onto his waiting tongue, which paused its long, wide strokes. “Fucking hell, Brian”

His lips closed down on hers before she even realized he had lifted himself back up on top of her.

“Come here, Finn,” He wrapped his strong arms around her torso, holding her to him tightly. She didn’t have much choice but to “come here,” her body tight against his from where he drew her to him. It didn’t worry her, fresh off her high. His mouth was gentle on hers, his hands held her to his body.

She was shocked he wasn’t making his way between her legs, instead holding her body to his gently. Brian kissed her neck gently, and let her reach for her scotch on the nightstand.

Finn took a hearty slug before Brian took the glass from her fingers, taking a sip as if to wash the taste of her from his mouth. She wasn’t offended, she had never truly enjoyed kisses after being eaten out. Something about tasting herself…

He emptied the glass and handed it back to her with a gasp, sucking in between his teeth against the burn of the scotch.

“Come here,” His voice was a harsh whisper against her throat, his lips sweet as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her body to his. She shifted so her head laid on his shoulder, one arm wrapped over his abs.

“Surprised you’re not asking questions,” He said after a few minutes, stroking her back with his hard fret fingertips.

“I have so many,” She managed, gazing up at his bright tawny eyes. “Where do I start?”

“Do we go further? I’d imagine that’s the first one.”

“Mind reader.”

“It’s a talent.” She laughed against his skin at his sarcasm as he sat up to pull the coverlet over their bodies.

“Well, I’m figuring because you’re not even naked, it wasn’t very thrilling for -” He stood, interrupting her sentence as he poured a new drink. How he had gotten both glasses without her noticing she would never know.

“Oh?” Brian handed her her scotch before he stripped off his bottoms, finally turning off the light before he settled into the bed beside her. She hardly caught a glimpse of him before the room was dark.

“So I need to drink more before I take that? Because…”

“Nope. I want to hold you, to lay in bed with a drink, fall asleep with you in my arms.” He kissed her temple - what he could reach as he settled back with his arm under her body. “Accept that?”

“Seems strange to me,” She murmured as she shifted to lay comfortably at his side, her fingers tracing the v of his hip - as close as she could get without actually grabbing him.

“I knew it would,” He shifted to take a sip of his scotch, prompting her to do the same, reaching for the glass on the nightstand. Brian's lips left a trail of heat down her ribs as she set the glass back down, his hands on her back held her chest still.

“Gonna drive me insane,” Finn managed as he finally let her lay back down. In the dark of his hotel room, she couldn't see the wicked grin on his face, but she knew it was there. She could hear it in his voice.

“That's the plan,” He kissed her again, his mouth sweet and light over hers.

“Fine, I'll bite. I don't fucking get it,” Finn’s words came out a little harsher than she had intended, but the older guitarist just chuckled and rotated his arms behind his head so she lay on one meaty, monster-covered bicep.

“You're a hundred miles per hour all the time. Thought it'd be fun to slow you down a little,” It seemed as if he were trying to put it into terms she would understand, terms of conquest. It didn't work.

“What if this is your only shot to get me in your bed and you totally blew it?” She asked, propping herself up on one elbow to peer into his dark eyes. Her vision was just beginning to adjust to the dark room, but he watched her like a hawk.

“You'll be back,”

“How do you know that?”

“Because now it's a challenge.”

Fuck he had pinned her. Where she had been worried about giving it all to him too soon, it seemed Brian had been the one playing the long game. Her giggle was coarse against his neck as he drew her body to his, setting her back in the nook of his arm as he curled slightly to kiss her again.

“We gotta get on the road in a couple hours,” He murmured against her lips, holding her captive against his face with a hand buried in her grey hair.

Though she was still confused, Finn couldn't pretend she didn't want to fall asleep in his arms, curled up against the guitar god’s side.

What a fucking pickle she had gotten herself into.


	6. Chapter 6

Pounding on the door woke the pair, and set Brian to swearing as he realized what time it was. Finn could hardly even recognize the room she was in and who she was with - her contacts were absolutely glued to her eyeballs - let alone realize that they were supposed to leave for the next town shortly. As she came to and her contacts loosened up, she remembered the night before and started swearing herself, flying out of the bed and Brian's arms.

She took a slug of her scotch to rinse some of the morning from her breath - noting Brian's laugh as she did - and set to finding the clothes scattered across his floor before he could throw them into his suitcase.

The other guitarist wrapped an arm around her as she snatched a shirt off the ground, pulling her lips to his for a kiss. His lips were almost enough to distract her from the rush they were in, and she let herself melt in his arms for a minute before he pulled away, slapping her ass toward the door.

Finn yanked the shirt over her head, realizing immediately that it wasn't hers because it had sleeves, but she was already on her way out the door and didn't have time to think about it. She hadn't packed at all the night before and while it wasn't like her bag was strewn over her room as Brian's seemed to be, it was going to take her more than three minutes to get to her room, pack, and meet her band mates back in the lobby.

"You!" Matt sounded more amused than anything, leaning on the wall next to his band mate's door with his tattooed arms crossed over a flannel. "He treat you ok?"

Finn stopped dead, staring up at the bearded man first in confusion, then with annoyance.

"I mean..."

"Your brother's downstairs with your shit. Said you should just go down." Twintuition at its finest. Finn took a deep breath and looked up at the man, thanking him as she walked slowly down the hall, her fingers fumbling to tie the borrowed shirt up at her waist. It was a Lamb of God v-neck, she realized, definitely the shirt Brian had been wearing before. Now that she had a minute, she could go back in and get her own shirt, but she liked the smell of the other guitarist.

"Hey Finn?" Matt's call prompted her to turn as she stabbed the elevator button, eyebrows knitted as she looked at the singer, checking for her (super dead) phone in her back pocket with her credit card. She had collected all her effects but the fucking shirt, a brilliant feat.

"Yeah?"

"Don't fucking hurt him."

She didn't get to ask what the fuck he meant as the elevator dinged and opened in front of her. All she could see was a bemused smirk on the bearded singer's face.

Finn tried to puzzle out what the fuck she had just gotten herself into as she assessed her reflection in the mirrored elevator doors, fixing what she could of her makeup with her fingertips before she arrived at the lobby. Fuck she was not ready to face her band mates.

They were standing outside, smoking, and she was greeted with wolf's whistles as she joined them. Cigarettes. She had left her cigarettes in Brian's room. Luckily, her twin provided her with one and a light when she couldn't produce a lighter. As she breathed in, he settled one of his flannels over her shoulders because she also had forgotten her jacket in their room the night before.

"Jesus, I'm a fucking mess," She murmured as Tor patted her head. Zacky barked a laugh from where he leaned on one of the hotel's pillars. Max and Jay, however, stared at her as if they were putting puzzle pieces together.

They seemed to figure it out when Matt and Brian came out of the elevator, heads together in what seemed to be deep conversation. A conversation they ended as they walked out to join the ragtag rabble on the sidewalk.

Brian lit a cigarette with one eye closed against the smoke, sparing Finn a lopsided grin. Between his second-day stubble and her disheveled appearance, the other two members of her band got the picture almost immediately. To their credit, they didn't say anything.

Finn busied herself with finding a portable charger and a book in the front pocket of her bag as the guys bickered about something or the other, tuned out of their conversation as the pair of vans arrived. Standard operating procedure included splitting splitting up Tor and Finn, who could get testy on morning car rides together, so she grabbed her bag to chuck into the back of the second van. Brian’s fingers closed over hers on the handle of her bag as she bent to lift the thing - the taller guitarist smiled down at her as he took it from her and easily swung it into the back of the van. The grey-haired guitarist lifted an eyebrow at him as she pulled her cigarette from her lips and got out of the way for Zacky and Jay to add their bags to the pile.

Brian situated himself in one of the “captain’s chairs” behind the driver with a guitar in hand, strumming as he chatted with Zacky, Johnny and Jay. She sat with Max in the back of the van, managing to fall asleep on his shoulder as they travelled.

It was probably an hour and a half from door to door, not quite enough time for a good nap.

“I need a shot, coffee, or both,” She murmured as she crawled out over the back seat of the van - over their bags, accepting a helping hand from her current favorite guitarist as she almost tripped and fell onto the pavement.

“I was thinking something like coffee and Bailey’s,” He replied with a lopsided smile as he excavated their bags. Finn was thankful for the help, but being treated like she was delicate was strange to her. She supposed, for now, it was endearing.

“I like that idea!” Zacky called as he closed in to retrieve his bag. “I mean, some of us didn’t stay up quite so late, but I want a fucking drink,”

“It’s, like, eleven-thirty,” Max quipped, closing in for his bag, shooing Finn and Brian out of the way. She realized she had been staring into space and dragged her bag onto the sidewalk and into the lobby of the hotel where Matt and Toric were already checking in.

With a start, Finn realized she had started to gravitate toward Brian again, and stalked over to her brother to requisition a key card for the room.

She practically burst into the shower in her hurry to feel like a human again, but soon found herself trapped by her brother as he prodded her for details.

“So?”

“What?” She reached for her toothbrush through the curtain, which Tor handed to her seamlessly. Twintuition.

“Don’t be a brat,” He had obviously perched on the counter, waiting for his sister to talk. He had been able to get up at a reasonable hour and didn’t have to worry about looking a mess. “Tell me about last night. And wash your fucking hair today, for the love of god,”

Finn sighed and held her hand out for her shampoo and conditioner, which sent Tor into the bedroom to get them from her suitcase, giving her a moment’s reprieve.

“Well?”

“God damn you’re persistent today,” She glowered at the shower wall as she sudsed up her hair with grey-tinted shampoo, considering his question. She hadn’t been able to unpack the night herself, so instead of summarizing, she decided to give him as close to a blow-by blow as she could without freaking him out, finishing with her encounter with Matt in the hallway.

“‘Don’t fucking hurt him?’ Like, word for word?”

“Yeah, like he’s some sort of delicate flower. I don’t know, Tor, I feel like I’m outta my fucking depth.” She rinsed her hair and applied conditioner to the lot of it, trying to make it feel more like hair and less like straw. “I don’t usually play this game.”

“You don’t usually play this game this way, you mean.” She could tell he had his lips pressed in a fine line, arms crossed. “I say again, what’s there to lose? Like, yeah, you could be out sleeping with other guys, but… Like, he’s basically a legend, Finn. One who obviously wants to keep you around for longer than it takes to get off.”

Finn stuck her arm out for a razor, which Tor provided as she propped her leg up on the side of the tub.

“I mean, I appreciate it, but it’s so fucking weird. What does he get out of it, Tor?”

“You know, I’ve tried to explain this to you before, but attraction isn’t like that, Finby,” He sighed, and probably leaned back against the mirror as Finn switched legs. “It’s like you aggressively don’t get it. This may come as a shock to you but you don’t have to be tough all the time,”

“It’s kind of hard to turn off, T.”

“I get it, but you should try. Though, watching you two circle like sharks is kind of fun,”

“I just… don’t get it, I guess.” She sighed as she rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, temporarily tuning out her twin with the roar of the water in her ears.

“... have to get it, just go with it. He, like, lives his life on the road, must be lonely really.” Tor paused as if considering. “Also, I have a stupid hot sister, so there’s also that to consider.”

Finn snorted at her brother as she turned the water off, reaching for a towel. He handed her one, and provided a second when he knew she had finished wrapping up her hair.

“It’s true though, Finby. I’ve heard you talk about other guitarists sex appeal when they play, but have you ever thought about yours? There’s a reason we sell tickets, and it’s not because women come to see me,”

“Yeah, right.” She ripped the curtain back and stepped onto the shower mat, moving past her brother to assess her face and reapply her eye makeup. “Fuck I left that lipstick in his fucking room,”

Tor smirked at her and hopped off the counter, poking her shoulder as he moved into the bedroom. He reappeared in the doorway of the bathroom after a minute, holding her phone.

“I’m going downstairs for coffee, see you in a few.”

“Yeah, fine. I’ll be down after I dry this,” She motioned to her head as she plugged in her hair dryer and took her phone from his hand.

After a few minutes of drying she realized why he had brought her phone to her in the bathroom when the notification reminder flashed up on the screen.

‘trade shirts?’

She smirked and set down the dryer to text back.

‘only if you get me that coffee w/ a shot,’ She shot back, and hit her hair for another few minutes to dry the roots - the ends were a lost cause, they’d dry on their own in a few hours anyway - before another notification popped up.

‘done. downstairs in five?’

‘make that fifteen.’

Her hair truly needed another twenty minutes to be in decent shape, but she decided to abandon her drying and braided the ends in pigtails on either side of her head so she could get dressed in a reasonable amount of time.

She hopped into an elevator wearing black high-waisted shorts with tights and just-over-the-knee lace-up boots and a slouchy, dangerously drapey black shirt over a red-hot bralette. Even if she wasn’t sure of the game, she was going to look damn good playing it. Also, she hated to change clothes just to go on stage, so she picked something she would be comfortable in the whole day.

Finn found Brian by the bar, negotiating the release of Bailey’s shots for the pair of coffees before him, wearing sunglasses inside. She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the lobby, and knew she had done decently picking out clothes.

“Hey, kid,” He greeted her with an open arm, kissing her forehead as she slipped to his side, her arms around his narrow waist. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like a new human. You look a little worse for wear,” She handed him his shirt, which he flipped over his shoulder as she tucked hers into the Luna purse she wore. “Did you happen to find lipstick in your room?”

It seemed to take him a minute to realize what she meant, and dug into his pocket to produce the lipstick in question and a pack of cigarettes.

“Damn Haner, you shoulda slept in the van.”

“Can’t, I don’t sleep when I’m moving.” He looked tired but happy as he sipped his coffee. “Where’s the rest of the troops?”

“Great question. Tor came down here, like, half an hour ago,” She paused to dig her phone out from under the shirt in her bag. “Let me text him.”

“You do that. I’m gonna sit… down.” He groaned as he hopped onto one of the stools, jostling his head. “Fuck I’m not as young as I used to be,”

“I’ve got some Advil in here if you want,” She offered helpfully, taking a deep gulp of the spiked coffee. Brian held out a palm, rubbing his forehead with the other hand. Finn provided him with pills before she settled on the stool beside him, reading her brother’s text. She immediately bounded back up.

“They’re in a pub down the street, those bastards!”

“That’s what we get for staying up too late I guess,” Brian muttered, his tone dour. He must really have been hurting, Finn thought.

“I don’t regret it one bit,”

“I regret switching to scotch,” He lowered his sunglasses to peer at her over the dark frames. His eyes were bloodshot and tired. With a sympathetic pout, Finn braced her black-finger nailed hands on either side of his face and bounced up on her toes to kiss his forehead. The interest in PDA was extremely uncharacteristic for the petite guitarist, but she felt a little thrill as he wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling his nose into the hollow of her collarbone.

“If you could hold still, I’m just going to take a quick nap,” She giggled and ruffled his hair, pushing him off her chest so she could slip her arms through one of Tor’s flannels.

“Come on lazy bones, I’m fucking starved,”

He walked with an arm over her shoulders as if he wanted to steer her upstairs to bed, each step almost reluctant as they walked out of the lobby.

“Just be glad we’re in the UK and not fucking Spain or someplace bright,” Finn quipped, twining her fingers into his.

“No, because if we were in Spain, I’d be on the fucking beach right now.” She shook her head and took a gulp of her coffee, realizing she wasn’t going to win until he recovered.

Finn didn’t kick his arm off his shoulder as they walked into the pub and it seemed Brian was content to leave it there, holding her fingers when she tried to loosen them in his grasp. He didn’t look down at her as she glanced at him with a questioning eyebrow, but a lopsided smile spread over his face as they walked to the set of tables the guys had cobbled together in the back of the pub, away from the windows.

Her twin shot her a look - his raised eyebrow seemed comment on how quickly she had embraced his advice, like she had a choice - as the pair parted to sit in the only chairs left on opposite sides of the table.

“Ok, gimme a menu. I just carried an old man here, and I’m stupid hungry,” She held out a hand for Matt to pass her a menu from the pile in the middle of the table. Brian flipped her a very elegant bird with the first O in Marlboro from across the table, head in his other hand.

“Shouldn’t keep him out so late and you won’t have to carry him around,” The bearded singer quipped dryly, getting a slightly wide-eyed look from the grey-haired guitarist as she set the menu down on the table, grabbing for her coffee. Alcohol.

“Yeah, let’s address that elephant in the room,” Johnny pointed at Finn as she gulped her coffee and Bailey’s. When it was clear she wasn’t going to set the cup down until she had another drink in her hand, the bassist turned to his band mate. Brian’s R joined his O as he flipped Johnny off.

“Don’t think they’ve got it figured out, Johnny, I’d butt out. Findlay gets punch-happy when she’s feisty,”

It was Finn’s turn to offer her twin an extended middle finger, palm toward her face as she asked for a chicken sandwich and a drink from the waitress. The bassist settled back in his chair and resumed his conversation with Max. Finn was glad to pass the buck for center of attention to her brother as he chatted with half the table.

Across the table, Brian winked at her over his sunglasses as he perused the menu.


	7. Chapter 7

Finn shook her hair behind her back as she played, strumming furiously to keep up with the blistering pace Jay had set for their closing song - a cover of Dio’s Holy Diver. She almost stumbled over her solo as she climbed up onto one of the amps, breaking a pick as she transitioned strings and switching to finger picking on the fly. The style of the solo was altered, but she made it through until she could swipe another pick off her mic stand.

As she struck the last chord and Tor shouted his thanks to the crowd, Finn noticed Zacky and Brian in the wing nodding with approval. With a wave at the crowd, she stalked off stage, pulling the guitar off over her shoulder.

“Well done, Findlay!” Zacky gave the grey-haired guitarist a high five and a hug before he strapped on his guitar and turned her over to Brian’s waiting arms.

“That was pretty fucking impressive, kid,” His voice was barely a murmur over the roar of the crowd behind them. The petite guitarist grinned into his chest for a moment before he, too, had to grab his guitar. Brooks had already snuck on stage to sit behind his drum set, and Matt and Johnny stared daggers at the trio from the other side of stage.

Finn was about to set her guitar down when a pair of fingers gripped her chin, and Brian’s mouth fell on hers roughly. Startled, she gripped his wrist with her free hand, the neck of her ESP still held in her left. After what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds, he let go of her chin and pulled away with a wicked grin to stand just off stage, strumming the opening chords for Shepherd of Fire.

“Fuck, wait!” She managed to catch his sleeve before he walked out with a lipstick smudge on his chin, wiping at the blood red smear with the edge of her jacket until it came off. Grinning, he ran a calloused thumb over her lip, his fingers briefly tucked under her chin before he turned to saunter on stage, just in the nick of time.

Finally, the grey-haired guitarist was able to set her guitar back on its stand, and started the process of packing up her instruments carefully, pointedly ignoring her brother who perched on one of the amps backstage.

“Aw, come on Finn, that was fucking adorable,” He called over the roar of Avenged’s set, passing her a case from behind the amp he sat on. Silently, she packed up her guitars one after the other, leaving the cases where they would be picked up by their logistics staff. As the guys on stage transitioned to their second song, Findlay straightened and fixed her fists on her hips, staring at her brother.

“Finby,” He shook his head at her. “Just let it happen, Finn,”

“Are you staying to watch their set?” Finn asked over the raging solo Brian played, leaning on the amp next to her brother as the other two members of their band joined them from the opposite side of the stage. She liked to watch on occasion, because they were a fucking good band and every now and then she learned something about showmanship. Usually, she could get one of them to stay with her. Today, she worried about what staying - or leaving - would say about how she felt about Brian.

As an answer, Jay sat down on the stage floor and started opening the top of a suitcase of beer he had seemingly produced from nowhere. With a grin, he passed a Newcastle to Finn. She stood staring at it for a moment until Tor cracked the top for her.

With a sigh, Finn took a huge gulp of the beer and sat down on the ground beside the drummer, her legs outstretched.

As the third song came to a conclusion and Matt was discussing life with the crowd, Brian glanced toward their little party on the ground by the amps.

“Hey guys? Guys, the Heathens are over there having a fucking party without us.” He announced over the mic, still playing some little ditty or another like he did any time there was an instrument in his hands. They had that in common.

“Fucking what?” In full show mode, Matt was boisterous. “What the fuck are you kids doing?”

Finn sprung up, accepting an armful of beers from Jay and Max as they loaded her up and strode confidently onstage to present them to the thirsty musicians.

“Ah, look at this sweet angel,” The bearded singer grinned wickedly through his microphone as he accepted a beer, popping the top with one hand. Zacky and Brian quipped into their microphones with a beer each.

“Moon of my life,”

“My sun and stars,”

“Awe, and she’s even got one for Brooks!” Finn had to vault onto the drum kit to present it to him, and the drummer comedically bowed down to her as Matt quipped.

“Talented and so kind,” Zacky teased over the mic as she jumped off the stand, landing like an olympic gymnast, presenting to the crowd with her arms overhead.

“Let’s hear it for Findlay and her bandmates, guys, just impressive folks all around. Good kids. Buy their shit.” Matt gave the little grey-haired guitarist a hug, dwarfing her with his frame. “Now get the fuck off my stage!”

“Hogging the limelight,” Brian kicked at her ass as she retreated to the wing, flashing her a grin and a wink.

“Guys, be nice to her, she’s got beer. Thanks for the beer, Finn!” Zachy waved brightly at her as she bowed her way off stage to grab her own drink.

She lounged with her bandmates until Brian made an ‘I’m watching you’ signal, at which point she sent Max with an armful of beer for the band, starting the honorifics all over again.

“Beautiful.”

“Incredible.”

“Yuge.”

“Way to bring it down, Vengeance.”

“Yeah, killing the mood Zack.”

“Fuck you guys,”

The band played on. And on. Tor balanced a can on his head, sitting like a yogi with his hands on either knee of his crossed legs. Finally, after a double encore, Zacky and Brian returned to the “guitar side” of the stage.

“Great set guys, well done.” Max greeted the pair with what Finn called ‘man hugs,’ the clasped fist and back pat maneuver.

“It was the beer. Can you guys do that more often please?” Brian asked as he slipped a sweaty arm over Finn’s shoulder.

“Oh fuck you are nasty,” Finn tried to push him away, but was pulled into his chest for her troubles.

“Group hug!” Zacky butted up behind Finn and Brian, wrapping his arms all the way around the petite guitarist and his bandmate. Somehow, even though they looked fine, both of the men smelled like a Floridian swamp, and were as warm as one too.

“Darkness! Imprisoning me!” Finn had no choice but to wait until they let go of her - and by the time Zacky’s arms started to loosen, Matt’s and Johnny’s joined them. “... Absolute horror…”

Finally, the rest of the men pulled away - in the interest of beer - and left her standing with a grinning Brian.

“Swamp ass,” She murmured, taking a sip of the beer which had been pinned between their chests.

“Ah, everyone loves a good group hug, Finn.” He let her go to swipe a beer from the almost-empty case. “You gotta embrace it,”

“Hardy har har,” She rolled her eyes at him, glancing at the group as he pulled a cigarette out to light. “So I guess we’re on break until Wednesday,”

“Yup. Lot of time to kill,” Finn reached for his guitar to strum, leaning against an amp as she fiddled around with the instrument.

“Jesus, is this fucking negative action?” She felt clumsy hammering her fingers against the strings as she plunked around.

“Almost none, life’s easier that way.” Finn could agree, letting her fingers trail up the neck in an extended arpeggio that turned into a bit of a solo.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I know the hotel has an indoor pool,” Jay called over the din of the retreating crowd.

“I don’t think I have a suit,” Finn murmured to Brian, still playing absently.

“Well there has to be some sort of clothes store between here and the hotel,”

“One that’s open now?”


	8. Chapter 8

The answer was yes - there was. It was the British equivalent of a walmart, but it was a 24-hour store and had swimsuits, and that was enough for the group.

Finn lounged next to the (very closed) pool with a glass of scotch, watching the boys splash around. She had no interest in getting into the water - chlorine made her break out - but the hungry glances she got from Brian were enough to keep her around as their surly waitress.

“Why don’t you come in, kid?” It wasn’t the dark-eyed guitarist who sat on her pool chair, but the bearded singer, looking for a fresh beer in the case by her feet.

“Allergic. I’ll swell up.”

“Allergic? To water?”

“Chlorine. I know, it’s weird.” She glanced at the water and shivered. “I get all red and hive-y.”

Matt rolled his eyes and opened his beer, gazing at the lithe guitarist with narrowed eyes. He scratched his beard as he seemed to size the woman up.

“What, is there something on my face?”

“Just considering. Brian and I have been friends for a really long time,” She lifted an eyebrow at the bearded singer, waiting for him to get to the point. “I want to see him happy, Finn.”

“He seems alright now,” She motioned to the game of Brian and Johnny versus Max and Jay game of chicken going on in the pool.

“I’m not talking about that, don’t be thick Finn,” The guitarist in question sighed, looking away from Matt’s piercing stare. “You’ve caught him up in your gravitational pull. Don’t let him burn up on entry.”

“Wow, that was… weirdly on message with your album and also extremely sexual and I’m a little uncomfortable now, thanks Matt.” She took a gulp of her scotch before she stared at Matt. “Why are you so set on the idea I’m going to hurt him? He’s got more of a reputation than I do.”

“Because I’m his friend. We’ve been friends for twenty years. I’ve seen this happen before.”

“Listen, Shadows. This is uncharted territory for me.” Her tone was quiet, dangerous as she stared levelly at the singer. “Why don’t you just let us feel it out? It could easily be me who burns up, because I’m just space junk caught up in his orbit.”

Matt regarded her in silence, his face unreadable as they both took sips of their drinks.

“Fine.” His raspy baritone dripped with sarcasm.

“If this is about what I said, and what was said about me yesterday, you should fucking forget it.” She glared at him, finishing her drink. “I’m going to have a fucking cigarette.”

Finn stood, yanking a pair of pants up over her suit and buttoning a flannel over her chest as she stormed out of the pool with her cigarettes and drink.

She rested her head against the brick wall of the hotel, lighting a cigarette and watching it burn between her fingers.

“Fuck.”

It was much colder than she had thought, and she buttoned the flannel up over her cleavage. She never let shit like that get to her. What did she care about a bearded man’s opinion about her love life? She swore again, finally breathing deeply off her cigarette.

“Hey,”

Finn’s head popped off the wall. She hadn’t expected to be followed, and definitely hadn’t expected Brian to extricate him from his chicken match, wrap himself in a towel and a jacket and come out into the cold.

“The fuck just happened?”

She stayed quiet, taking a deep drag of the cigarette and let him take it from her fingertips. His smoky lips closed over hers, his body damp and warm where it pressed against hers.

“Finn, are you ok?”

“I’m fucking… fine. It’s ok.” She sighed, her eyes closed against his cheek as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m a drama queen when I drink.”

“You’re not a drama queen, Matt said something. Let me guess.” He pressed his lips to her forehead so he could murmur nearer to her ear. “Don’t you even fucking think of hurting Haner, I don’t trust you, he’s my friend,”

His imitation was spot on, but she expected no less. She took the cigarette from his hand and took a deep drag.

“That’s about it,” She took another breath of smoke. “That’s almost exactly it.”

“I’m sorry,” He held her close to his chest, stroking her hair. “I hate it when he gets involved.”

“Why does he?” She asked, her lips at his chin. “I understand caring but he’s fucking… aggressive.”

“I could explain it, but I think my nuts are about to drop off,” He admitted after a moment, his nose in her hair. She giggled, taking the last drag of the cigarette.

“We can talk about it later,” She murmured into his chest, pressing her lips against his collarbone.

“Or we can say goodnight, go upstairs,”

“Yeah?” His fingers snuck under the flannel, touching her skin gently.

“Yes.”


	9. Chapter 9

“It's the weirdest thing,” Finn concluded as she stuck her arm out of the shower for conditioner. “It's everything but. And we both want it, it just never fucking happens for some reason. I mean, at least I think we both want it?”

Tor handed her the bottle with what she knew was a bemused smirk, but remained silent as his sister continued to complain about her new flame.

“I’m getting to the point where everything else he does makes it fucking worse. I feel like a damn highschooler. He can’t be in any better shape, right?” She finished coating her waist-length hair in tinted conditioner and started on her legs, foot up on the wall.

“I just don’t know why he wants to wait. It’s not like we’re saving ourselves for fucking marriage. Fuck, he’s been with more women than I can even conceive of,”

“I think I might know why.” Tor murmured with a laugh, barely audible over the roar of the water.

“Please don't fucking say ‘but I can't tell you,’ Toric. I can't take this today.”

“Patience Findlay. You should find out today, I’d think. I know it was something they wanted to talk about over break.”

“They? Wait, Tor, come on!”

Finn rinsed the last of the conditioner out of her hair and caught the towel her brother tossed over the shower curtain bar.

“You've got a text, by the way. Want me to read it?”

“Who from?” She asked, squeezing the water from her hair into the towel.

“Who else?”

“Fine. What's it say?” She patted at her body and secured a second towel around her torso, stepping out of the shower just as her brother unlocked her phone.

“‘Come up to Matt’s room. 675.’”

“Tell him I'm not interested in a threesome,” Finn brushed past her brother into the bedroom to get dressed.

“‘Orgy. There's five of us.’”

The grey-haired guitarist paused halfway through pulling on her torn jeans, brow wrinkled.

“Ask him why.”

She was padding back to the bathroom to put on makeup when the reply came.

“‘You'll see. Be serious.’”

“What the actual fuck,” Finn’s murmur was muted as she flicked on eyeliner, glaring at her reflection. “Tell him ten minutes. Wait, you know what this is?”

“Yup.” Tor hopped off the counter and slipped her phone in her back pocket as he slid by his much smaller sister into the bedroom. She had pulled out the hair dryer to hit her roots and put her waist-length hair into two low braids.

“Tell me! What the fuck!!” What was her life right now, Finn mused as she patted dark shadow into her eyelids. She rarely wore foundation so her makeup routine was quick, and she stared at her brother with her fists on her hips.

“Fine. Don't. Pray for me or something. Where's my wallet?”

Tor rocketed the thing at her head from its resting spot on the night stand - Finn barely caught it, and slipped it into her pocket. With an exasperated sigh, Finn walked out to the elevator, stabbing the call button furiously. What the fuck game were they playing?


	10. Chapter 10

She squared her shoulders and breathed deeply before she knocked on the door to Matt's room. Brian answered it like he had been pacing, waiting. There was a guitar in his hands, which didn't make sense at 10:30 on a Monday morning even though it always looked like it belonged there.

“Hey kid,” That lopsided grin that she loved to kiss spread over his lips. “Come on, let's get you set up,”

“What the hell is going on, Haner?” She asked as he led her into the room where the rest of his band mates sat. Zacky thrust a guitar into her hands - how did they acquire one of her ESPs from the gig trailer? - and bid her to sit in an office chair that belonged to the desk. Brian leaned on the desk behind her, probably looking like a guitar god. Matt sat next to Zacky at the edge of the bed, and Johnny sprawled across the bed behind them. Brooks, she assumed, was asleep somewhere - he slept a lot more than humanly necessary, in Finn’s opinion.

“So. As you know, I've got a pregnant wife,” Zacky’s band mates rolled their eyes - there wasn't a soul who didn't know Meaghan was expecting. Not within ten miles of the shorter guitarist. “And I'm about to miss, like, three weeks of shows next month when she gets induced.”

Finn kept wanting to ask him to get to the fucking point, but resisted the urge. She sat with the guitar in her lap but kept her fingers off the strings to avoid playing little ditties like Brian was behind her.

“So we've been racking our brains trying to come up with a stand in. It's been weeks. And a couple weeks ago we realized what fucking idiots we are.” Finn smoothed her face as she started to realize what Tor had already known. Was that why she and Brian hadn't slept together? She splayed her fingers across the fret board of the guitar, trying to distract herself from that line of thought.

“But we wanna make sure you’re up to the task.” Matt interjected, getting a level glare from Zacky.

“He means make sure I don't wanna just keep you around,” Brian murmured, and she could tell he was staring daggers at his friend.

“Yeah this is a complete formality for Sander’s sake. Anyway. Business aside. Do you know our usual set list?”

“I mean, I do, but are we going to sit here for two hours?” She asked Zacky, schooling her hands to stillness before she fished for a pick out of her pocket. As a guitarist, she usually had a few in whatever article of clothing she was wearing - if it had pockets.

“No, just a little bit of every song. Follow Brian's lead.” The guitarist in question dropped a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently before he started to play. She strummed the guitar to check its tuning, and fiddled with the G string before she sighed and squared her shoulders.

“No pressure.” Finn sighed and tuned into Brian's song behind her, finding Zacky’s part and playing along to the beginning of God Damn.

The guitar harmony piece of God Damn was intricate, and under the scrutiny she nearly flubbed a line. He flowed into Paradigm, and she followed after a few beats when he realized where he was in the song. They had played together before - little jam sessions here and there - and she and Brian played well together, but this was a much higher stakes situation, Finn realized. While their previous jam sessions were free-flowing or songs that they didn’t play on stage, this was legit. Zacky’s eyes were sharp on her fingers, but he still smiled.

Finn listened to Brian’s cues behind her to play, only occasionally glancing back at the black-haired man for guidance. He nodded patiently, his heavily-lidded eyes halfway closed as he played, his tattooed fingers flowing over the frets easily. It was calming to watch.

They played snippets of many Avenged songs, Brian leading and the grey-haired guitarist following. The most awkward thing was figuring out where to look, so she ended up staring blankly at each of the guys in turn, until finally Matt nodded with what seemed to be satisfaction.

“Ok but… what now? What even is this?” Finn asked, still quietly strumming the guitar in her lap.

“Well it means - with the permission of your band and everything, if you can even leave - we'll keep you with us through Europe.” Zacky declared, a hand outstretched to shake. With a raised eyebrow, Finn took it and found herself pulled onto her feet. “And now, shots!!”

“There's not, like, a contract or something?”

The guys looked at each other like it wasn't something they had thought about.

“We'll discuss that with management.” Brian offered as he reached to take the guitar from her hands.

Finn shook her head, only slightly astonished at their lack of business sense as Johnny led her out of the hotel room with a hand on the small of her back. Perhaps it was because she was a woman, but she had been forced very early on in her band’s career to figure out contracts - she had even added Business as a second major in college.

“We’ve got an educated one here, kids,” Johnny called as he stabbed the elevator button - obviously heading down to the lobby for a celebratory drink, judging by the text he had sent her band mates.

“I didn’t know you went to school, Finn!” It seemed Matt had decided to play nice today. Whatever bad blood and lack of trust had been between the raspy-voiced singer and the small guitarist seemed to have started to dissipate since the incident at the pool, but Matt was still more likely to be frosty to her than cordial.

“Yeah well, not all of us are lucky enough to be as talented as y’all are.” Finn shrugged as she jostled onto the elevator with four men, finding it to be quite cramped even before Brian threw a possessive arm over her shoulder to pull her to his side. He still had his guitar in his hands, and Zacky had hers for whatever reason.

“I think you’re plenty talented. Finn and I are going to drop off the guitars and we’ll meet you down there.” He told his band mates as an aside, like they cared where he and Findlay were heading.

“Awesome,” Finn murmured as Brian’s lips met her temple, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He lifted an eyebrow at her, his free fingers rubbing her bony shoulder with concern. She shrugged her shoulders as the elevator dinged for Zacky’s floor.

As the other guitarist exited the elevator, Brian had turned around and seemed to be having a sort of silent conversation with Matt as they descended a floor to his room.


	11. Chapter 11

The grey-haired guitarist’s eyebrows knitted together as Brian pulled her off with him, passing her his Schecter as he fumbled for the key card. She had to admit, she had never waited at his door with a guitar in hand and a vague sense of foreboding, so that was new. Finally, he pulled open the door and took the guitar from her. She followed him in and threw herself on his bed dramatically as he boxed up the guitar, pulling the strap off the body before he tucked it lovingly into its hard case.

“Well? What’s up with you?”

“I’m just… overwhelmed.” She admitted after a moment as he snapped the case shut. His weight settled on the bed beside her and he fell backwards, settling with his arms behind his head, waiting. He didn’t stare at her, just waited for her to speak, his heavily-lidded eyes closed.

“I don’t know, Brian. There’s this weird dichotomy of… I don’t know, fast and slow.” Brian grunted at her use of the word dichotomy, but still laid next to her with his eyes closed, not contributing. “Fuck, I don’t know, Brian. I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Ugh, fucking hell. I’ll just give myself advice and say to calm the fuck down.” Brian sat up, his fist braced against the side of his head.

“I mean, I agree, but I’m still not really sure what you’re upset about.”

Finn paused for a moment, looking up at the dark-haired man, taking him in. He laid looking down at her with a tattooed hand buried in his shabby mohawk, a bemused smirk on his face. That signature smirk only served to make her more frustrated - sexually and emotionally.

“God damn it. Brian,” Frustrated, she tried to sit up, but was stopped with a gentle hand on her sternum, holding her down to the bed.

“I think I get it, Finby.” He ran his hand down her side, his fingertips settling at her hip. Since when did he call her Finby? “Come here,”

He gently drew her from her back to lay at his side, her head pillowed on his bicep. Try as she might, she couldn’t help but give into the position, relaxing as her leg inched up toward his hip. Brian stared at the ceiling now, seemingly deep in thought.

“I guess I just didn’t want to… impede your chances of this. The guys were talking about asking you to fill in before I made my move.”

“I don’t get that.”

“Why not?”

“Because they already thinks we’re fucking. I think everyone but Tor.”

“You talk to Toric about us?”

“He’s my fucking twin. He knows even if I don’t fill him in.” Brian sighed and turned his lips toward her head, pulling her onto his chest with a hand on her face.

“You drive me insane,” He muttered, his lips brushing against her forehead as her hair cascaded around her face.

“Why do you let me?”

“‘Cause I like it,” Brian pulled her up to his face with a hand wrapped around her back, and she let her eyes slip shut, brushing her eyelashes across his cheeks as he kissed her thoroughly. After a moment, he flipped her over onto her back, straddling her waist as he held her chin to his. She let a hand wander up his side to brush her fingertips against his high cheekbone with an almost pained groan.

“What?” He had snuck a hand underneath her tank top, playing with the edge of her bralette with a pair of calloused fingers.

“We’ve got two bands worth of men waiting for us downstairs.”

“And?” Brian sunk his hand under the lacy apparatus, his thumb and forefinger rolling her nipple between him.

“Boy, you have the most impeccable timing, Brian,” Finn groaned, leaning her head back against the bed, away from his mouth. He sunk his lips against her throat, his teeth nibbling the soft skin of her neck.

“This’ll be embarrassingly short,” Brian murmured as she sunk her hand into his thick, dark mohawk. “Teased us both long enough…”

“Now?” She asked as he sat up, shucking off his shirt.

“Right now.” His hands were hungry on her skin as he peeled off her tank and bralette all in one go, leaving her half naked and pinned under his hips. She swore as he pulled himself off her hips to peel off his jeans, standing in a pair of black boxer briefs. “Unless you don’t -”

“Shut the fuck up and get a condom,”

He did as he was told, pacing to hs suitcase to rifle through as she rose to the end of the bed, stretching her left shoulder out over her head. He threw the foil wrapper to the top of the bed before he wrapped his arms back around her naked torso, kissing her thoroughly with one hand buried in her hair, the other working to relieve them of her pants. She took pity on the desperate man and undid the button, pulling them down just far enough that he had to lean back and pull them off the rest of the way - taking her thong with them.

Finn let her head lean back as Brian dropped to sink his tongue against her, a soft groan of disappointment escaping her lips. As if cued, he came back to her lips, sinking his mouth against them hungrily as he pulled her up the bed beneath him. God, she loved that he appreciated the value of foreplay.

She let her fingertips run down his tattooed chest, tracing the letters inked into his skin as he pulled back to roll on the condom. He held himself at his base, letting the soft head of his dick rub down her. Finn moaned with anticipation.

“Are you sure?”

“Is there gonna be a fucking waiver, too?” She groaned, propping herself up on her elbows to stare at the dark-eyed man. “God, please, I need you,”

A wry grin spread across Brian’s face as he slowly pulled himself down, pressing her hip to the bed with one hand as if he were afraid she might buck against him. He was right to hold her - she could hardly resist attempting to thrust against him as he slowly slid the length of himself into her waiting entrance. After such a lead up, Finn had to hold him still against her body as his hips met hers, regaining her composure and hopefully her endurance.

“Embarrassingly short,” He murmured, dropping his lips to hers as he wrapped his arms around her chest. She hadn’t expected him to rotate so his back was against the headboard, and she sat in his lap with her toes curled beneath her - she had to suck in air between her teeth to keep from finishing right as he pushed deeply inside her.

“Not yet,”

At his direction, she started to ride him slowly, her hips grinding against his between long, tantalizing stokes. He threw his head against the soft headboard, gasping as she had her way with him, her hands on his shoulders to brace as she began to increase speed. She wasn’t sure how long she was going to last - his words resounded in her mind as he took one of her nipples between his teeth.

“Fuck, Finn,” His breath was hot against her nipple and she moaned as he ran his hands up her back to hold her chest to his mouth. “I’m on the edge,”

Fuck, even the way he told her he was about to come turned her on. She sped up her pace, pressing her shins into the bed as she tried to hold her own finish off to the last second, certain she was going to be too overwhelmed to continue after she came.

He clutched her hips hard, trying to stop her from riding his finish as she let herself go, tossing her grey hair back behind her shoulders as she finally found her end on him as he moaned into her chest.

“Fuck,” Brian’s head smacked against the headboard and she reached to wrap her hands around it, to shield it from further impact as he held her hips to his firmly. She could feel him pulsing inside her as her muscles clamped down on his with the force of her orgasm, and she pulled his head to her chest, trying not to laugh.

“Oh shit, Finn, whatever you’re doing, please... Fuck….”

Finn couldn’t tell if that was an invitation or a repulsion, but it made her throw her head back laughing as he practically went limp beneath her hips. His fingers searched fruitlessly for something to clutch down her torso before they dropped to her feet, holding her heels hard.

“God damn,”

The lithe guitarist started to pull herself off and found herself laying on her back between his knees. She struggled to her elbows just in time to find him rolling on a second condom - a rare look of concentration furrowing his brow.

“Don't want to remind you of the folks waiting on us but…”

“Fuck it, Finn, I’d cancel this whole god damn tour for another five minutes,” His growl was dangerously low as he kissed his way up her torso. She grinned as she watched the muscles of his tattooed arms ripple and finally wrap themselves around her shoulders as he gently pushed himself inside.

“I'm impressed,” Finn managed to moan as he adjusted himself on top of her, nuzzling one of her legs up so he could hook his elbow around her knee. Brian raised an eyebrow at her but bent his neck to kiss her collarbone.

“At your recovery time…” The rest of the quip was lost as he began working in long, sure strokes between her hips, his wicked grin concealed against her collarbone. Finn let her head fall back over the edge of the bed, her hair swinging in time with his thrusts, letting the pleasure of finally being with him wash over her.

Even at a “low and slow” pace, it wasn't long until both of the sex-deprived guitarists reached their finish. Brian collapsed on her chest, an arm wrapped around her waist as they panted in time.

Finally, he pulled himself free of her strong grip and bore her upright, kissing her thoroughly.

“I'm a little offended, Finn.” He murmured, tawny eyes twinkling with the light of a joke. “You were only impressed by my recovery time?”

The tattooed man had extricated himself from her arms and padded to the bathroom. She followed suit as the water of the shower started, pulling her hair up into a high bun.

“No, I'm impressed by a lot about you,” She said as she joined him under the water after a quick bathroom break, accepting the soap from him.

Finn found herself clasped to his chest, his fingers under her chin as the water pounded on his back. His lopsided smile was somewhere between shut-eating and admiration as he bent to kiss the petite guitarist.

Brian ran a hand across her hips as she reached for a towel, his brow furrowed. Finn stood, dropping on the bathmat as he seemed to consider asking the most obvious question -

“What are those scars?” He asked after a moment of consternation. It seemed as though he had been waiting to broach the subject for a while, which wasn’t surprising since he had certainly encountered them before. Maybe it was the sex that made him bold.

“Which ones? One’s kinda caused by the other.” She immediately regretted the sarcasm as she walked into the bedroom to find her discarded clothes.

“Tor and I were born pretty premature, which is normal for twins. But I was born with… neonatal abstinence syndrome,” Finn paused as she dragged her pants out from under the bed where they had been kicked. “Which means I was born addicted to mom’s heroin.”

“Fuck, Finn,” She waved a hand at the concerned guitarist, throwing him his shirt.

“I don't even remember. It's fine. But I was already the smaller twin, and I had a lot of organ damage too. So lots of surgery. They took a lot from me before I even knew what they took. I was a fucked up baby.”

“What they took?” Brian quoted questioningly, as she tucked her wallet into her back pocket.

“I had a hole in my heart, lost a kidney, my spleen and my gallbladder - which is why I can’t eat red meat, by the way - most of my uterus and an ovary.” The last part sounded like an afterthought, even though for a lot of her life it was her whole thought. She hadn’t even known motherhood could be a life goal when the option was taken away from her. “And I can’t even get them tattooed over because my stupid younger self decided to dabble in self-harm so the scarring is too thick.”

Finn sat down on the mattress and let herself fall back into the mussed-up covers, taking a little comfort in the smell of sex on the sheets. Really, her health problems were behind her - except for the kidney thing and not being able to eat red meat. She just had to trust she’d be able to take one of Toric’s kidneys when she needed a new one some day.

“Don’t get asked often, huh?” The dark-haired man sat down next to her, crossing one leg and hooking the knee of the other over his foot to dangle above the floor. Finn nodded as she stared at the ceiling, musing about being a 27-year-old package of damaged goods. “Hey, Finn, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be upset.”

“I’m not, really. This all happened before I was even a year old. And it’s not like I picked a life that’s conducive with having kids. It’s just a conversation that usually stops a relationship in its tracks.” She sat up on her elbows, gazing at Brian. “Once the novelty of not being able to knock me up wears off, that is.”

“So that’s why…” Brian let the sentence trail off, his head on his hand, elbow on knee as he stared at the grey-haired guitarist, his expression unreadable. She knew he was making sure the no pregnancy thing was true, and answered with a sigh.

“Yup.”

“Have you ever really dated anyone, Finn?” The question was quiet, his eyes piercing.

“Embarrassingly, not really. Never officially. And never for a long time.” She let her head dangle between her shoulder blades, stretching her back.

“I guess there’s a first time for everything, then,”

“Is that you asking me to date you, Brian? ‘Cause you’re gonna have to do better than that.” With a grunt, the taller man stood off the bed, offering her a hand up which she took.

“Well, let’s go downstairs and have a drink while I think of something.”

“Deal.”

Finn let the man sweep her diminutive frame up in his arms for another kiss, her arms trapped by her side by his tattooed biceps. When he was through with her mouth, he rested his chin on the top of her head, holding her close. She wasn’t sure why, but Finn let herself rest in his arms, tucking a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and the other on the small of his back.

After what could have been minutes or hours, Brian turned his lips down to kiss the crown of her head and let her go, his spindly fingers searching for hers. She reached to fluff up his deflating mohawk, running her hands through his hair if only to sneak in one last kiss before she twined her calloused fingers in his.


	12. Chapter 12

“Took you a while to put away that guitar, Haner,” Zacky called across the lobby sarcastically as Finn and Brian crossed it to the sound of Jay’s expert wolf’s whistle. Finn resisted the urge to flip them off, noting the presence of families in the lobby out loud to Brian who seemed to be gearing up to throw a expletive-laced tirade at their bandmates.

“You, drinks, now,” She mouthed as she pointed her treble clef-tattooed finger at her twin, who looked bewildered at being called into the limelight. She was particularly surprised the bar was even open, but then again, it had to be close to noon by now.

“Having a good time, kids?” Johnny asked with a raised eyebrow as the pair scooted into opposite sides of the booth, letting go of each other’s hands almost reluctantly.

“You could say that.” Brian murmured, thanking the bartender as he brought them a pair of drinks. He propped a foot up next to her on the outside edge of the seat with a sly grin.

“Whatever, be cryptic.” Johnny continued to prod even as he ordered another round for the table, including the recent arrivals who needed to play catch-up. “Findlay, where did you go to school?”

“Why are you so interested? Did you go to college?”

“No, I dropped out of high school for this band. Haner went to college,”

“That’s not really college, Johnny. I went to, like, some shitty for-profit to get some music theory chops.” He explained for her benefit.

“Where was it?” Finn asked, idly stirring her straw as she discussed higher education with the two men.

“I just studied jazz and classical guitar in Los Angeles.”

“Not the Berklee campus there?”

“Nope. It’s called the Musician’s Institute. Got a lot out of it, really. Folks take theory for granted.” Johnny stared back and forth between the pair, looking fascinated as if he hadn’t known his bandmate had spent time in school.

“You lived there though, right? Or do I remember you staying in Huntington?” Johnny asked, finishing his beer. “That was, like, twenty years ago, it's all a little hazy,”

With a start, Finn realized she had been staring at Brian as the man ran his hand through his poufy mohawk, teasing it to stand at attention, thinking about where they had been just minutes before. She diverted her attention to the drummer and the drink in her hands.

“Yeah, for a bit. It wasn’t a long program, like two years. I got a certificate and came back home.” Brian finished his drink as well, pointing at Finn as he clunked the glass down on the table. “Your turn.”

She thought for a few seconds, feeling self conscious - but Johnny seemed truly interested, and his childlike enthusiasm was difficult to disappoint.

“I went to Berklee in Boston. Music performance and business. You’re right though, music theory is important.” She chuckled as she remembered her senior year, as the band was forming. “Tor lived with me - he's always lived with me. We met Max in Atlanta when we were kids and he moved out to Boston when he was able, and we met Jay in town playing gigs. He was, we weren’t. But, like, when we started to work together as a band and I started writing, they didn’t understand where I was coming from for a really long time.

“So after a few months of explaining theory I finally sat them each down with a beginner book I stole off campus and guitars. It was so fucking funny, can you envision these assholes trying to play guitar?”

“Hey, I resent that!” Max called from the center of the booth. Finn hadn’t even been aware he was listening in to the conversation. “It’s a bass GUITAR, Findlay!”

She flipped him the bird and drained her drink, reaching for the second that waited for her in the middle of the table.

“So you were always on the musician track then, weren’t you?” Johnny asked, clapping with glee as the waitress brought shots.

“I mean, kinda. It’s what I was good at.”

“When she says good, she means she’s a fucking prodigy,” Toric interjected - he was always proud of his sister’s skill. “When she was, like, four she could read sheet music.”

“What instruments do you play?” Matt asked, finally tuning in since the conversation seemed to have now shifted to focus on Finn.

“Kinda anything with strings, including the piano. I started on the violin - Suzuki method.”

“Sitar?”

“Ok, you win Matt. I have never played a sitar.”

“I’m just trying to get you to shut up for a minute so we can take this shot!” The singer rasped, gesturing at her with his glass. Finn sighed and reached for her glass as Brian and Matt exchanged a wicked grin, and Toric seemed to know what was going on, which frustrated Finn for no reason she could discern.

“Here’s to our favorite guitar player - thank’s for stepping in when Zacky decided to knock up his wife!” Matt’s husky voice incited a round of laughter among the musicians as they downed their shots, glasses clinking on the table rowdily in the quiet hotel bar, causing their server to glare across the room. Jay and Johnny attempted to hush the group, but it was a useless endeavor.

“So I take it she said yes?” Max asked, looking at her twin instead of the woman in question.

“Well, Findlay? You’re leaving us for a bit?” Tor tapped his finger on the edge of her glass, reminding her of a very politically incorrect game they used to play in college called three-fifths compromise.

“Hey, might be a good writing opportunity. Have you seen those two shred?” Zacky interjected, having just ordered another round.

“Yeah, if they’re not distracted by other things,” Brooks commented dryly, gaining a sharp glare from Brian and a punch across Johnny’s shoulder from Finn. “What, it’s the truth!”

“Thanks, Brooks. Appreciate the discretion.” Brian murmured, as Finn glared.

“Moving on…”

As they got more drunk, the shenanigans continued. It was clear to Finn that the majority of the teasing came from a good-willed place, and from men who very much missed their wives and girlfriends.

“Wait, so are you two actually dating yet?” Tor asked, his eyebrow raised. Finn reached over Zacky to ruffle his tight curls with a bright smile.

“Well, I asked and she said -”

“Do better?” Finn’s twin finished her lover’s sentence, knowing his sister too well.


	13. Chapter 13

The next week, Finn fell asleep on Tor’s shoulder as they drove to the airport, her arms wrapped around his waist. The members of Avenged had joined the Heathens on their final sojourn out of the UK, back home to Boston.

Findlay and Toric had started to discuss a potential move to Los Angeles, but Tor very intelligently wanted to make sure they weren’t thinking of moving for the wrong reasons. It had made her sullen, but she agreed.

This would be the longest stretch Finn and Tor had ever been apart in their memory, which was the hardest part for the twins. Finn hardly let her brother go as they walked through to the security checkpoint, holding his arm, his hand, his waist. Tor’s arm draped over her shoulder, occasionally clutching her to his side.

They parted so Tor could hug the Avenged guys, and Finn could hug her bandmates and murmur their goodbyes.

“Alright, Finby, we gotta get through security,” Tor murmured, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding his diminutive twin to his chest. “I love you, kiddo,”

“I love you too, big kid. Fucking nerd.” Finn nestled her forehead under her brother’s chin, aware of burning eyes on her, waiting to take her back with them. “I’ll be back in, like, a month. It won’t be long.”

“Yeah, yeah. Make sure you write some shit.” He teased, pressing his nose to her forehead. Finn held her brother close, squeezing his waist as tightly as she could before she stepped back, her hand in his.

“I love you, T. Call me when you land.”

“Yes ma.” The curly-haired blond squeezed her hand tightly and let go to ruffle her hair and join his bandmates in the line.

Finn stood, her arms crossed as she watched her brother and bandmates until they had disappeared through into the bowels of the airport. With a sigh, she turned to find only Brian standing behind her, waiting.

“Where’d everyone go?” She asked as she folded herself into his arms.

“Out to smoke. I figured I’d hang out for you,” His blunt fingertips tilted her chin up so he could look into her smokey grey eyes. “You gonna be ok?”

“I’ll need a drink or seven. Hopefully I don’t cry.” He kissed her upturned mouth softly, his eyelashes tickling her cheeks as his heavy lids slipped shut.

“You and Toric have been apart before, right?” Brian asked, tucking her into one side so they could walk out of the airport.

“Yeah, for, like, a week,” She murmured, digging her fingers into his back pocket. “I’ll be ok. I’ll have distractions,”

“I’ll say you do,” The sleepy-eyed man smiled down at the petite guitarist, who snuggled her face into his chest as they walked. “Hey, Finn?”

“Yeah,”

They stopped moving, and for a moment, it was only the pair of them standing in the busy airport as Brian pulled her to a stop in front of him. He rested a hand on her cheek, the other at her elbow, holding her gently. Finn gazed up at him, smiling weakly.

“I’m fine, Bri, knock it off.” She pressed her fingers to his lips, ignoring the stares of people who knew who either of them were. “Ask me again in a week and a half.”

“Deal. Come on, kid.”

The pair sparked up cigarettes as they waited for their car to come back around. The guys had already gone back to the hotel in the first van.

“So who’s the new opening band?”

“Disturbed and Chevelle.”

“Wow, big names.”

“You can hack it, Finn,” He kissed her with the remnants of smoke on his lips - just as the second van pulled up.


	14. Chapter 14

They had one more show in London before they travelled to Germany, but Finn wasn’t needed until a week and a half later in France. Her first show would overlap with Zacky’s last days on the tour. It wasn’t worth the stress and the jet lag to fly herself back, she had opted to just do her laundry and stick around, camping out in Brian’s hotel rooms at night. In the meantime, instead of being able to lounge around together naked, they had to lie around naked together with guitars, had to play during and before soundchecks, had to practice during drinking time while everyone else did shots.

“God damn it, Brian, can we just have one fucking night?!” Finn asked, collapsing into a booth across from Brian after slogging her way through God Damn for what seemed like the millionth time. “I think I’ve fucking got this,”

“Finn, I don’t want you to get up on stage and -”

“Fucking hell, Brian. I’ve played the same crowds. I’ve played your fucking songs. I’ve played them with you, with Zacky, with Johnny, with fucking Brooks, Matt’s sung over them, I’ve played them with the boys. I’ve played them in bed piss drunk, I’ve played them sober. My callouses are almost off, I’ve got a bloody fucking pinky. Can I please have a day or two before we hit this again?”

Her eyes were closed, so she couldn’t see Brian glaring at her, or the rest of the guys turning in their seats at the adjacent booth to glare at her as she threw a fit, but she was aware. She let the guitar neck fall to her shoulder as she stuck her finger tips straight up in the air, displaying the blood that seeped from her pinky. She had honestly been playing nonstop since her brother and bandmates had boarded their plane back to America.

“Fucking fine. Get up,”

Finally, it seemed that Brian’s indomitable patience had cracked. It wasn’t the first time she had thrown a tantrum about practicing when she didn’t feel the need to, but it was clear that both of them needed a drink. Desperately.

She sat up and shucked off her ESP and held it in her strumming hand, as if to demonstrate how much her fingers hurt after near constant practicing. She was shocked that Brian wasn’t also in pain, but as he pulled off his own guitar she could see a blister on his thumb, and immediately felt bad for her fit. Instead of saying anything, she stole a shot off the table to slug back before she stalked toward the elevator, intent on depositing her guitar in the room before she sat down for a drink. Or seven.

“Finn,” He sounded exasperated, calling her from the bar - from which she had taken about three steps away. “Finby, come back,”

She turned to face him, trying to walk as normally as she could with her guitar in the wrong hand, sucking on her pinky, unaware of how sensual the move looked until Brian lifted an eyebrow.

“Come on, let’s take a break.” Like it was his idea. She rolled her eyes at the taller guitarist, sitting on a stool that had been produced for the pair with her guitar firmly clutched in her arms.

“Finn, you wanna sit there with that?” Matt asked huskily beside her, offering the grey-haired guitarist another shot. She slammed it back, feeling a pair of heavy hands descend on her shoulders. One of those hands reached for her guitar as she set the glass on, staring back at Brian over her shoulder.

“Let me put it with mine.”

“Where?” She asked as his lips settled on her temple, relieving her of the cherry-red guitar. Finn let her head drop back to watch where Brian bore her guitar to - setting it on the table of a booth next to his multi-thousand dollar Schecter like he knew it meant just as much to her.

“Fucking hell, I’m just so tired of practicing. I’ve left fear of disappointment behind, like, three days ago, Matt,” The grey-haired guitarist murmured to the bearded singer beside her.

“It’s ok, Finn. He just doesn’t want to see you fail,” Finn watched as Brian retreated to the opposite side of the bar, as if he sensed that the meaty singer and the lithe guitarist needed their moment together.

“I get it, really, but… fuck.”

She was thinking of complaining more but was distracted by a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me see your hands,” It wasn’t Brian as she had halfway expected, but Zacky. The lithe guitarist turned in her chair and offered the bloody fingers of her fret hand and the chewed-up side of her palm to her fellow guitarist, who had a bottle of superglue in one hand.

“Ah, fucking hell I hate this part,”

“Yeah, well, you can’t lose that callous right now, can you?” He flipped her hands over with one of hers, surveying the damage before he produced a pair of nail clippers from his pocket. With a groan, Finn plucked the instrument from between his long fingers and began to clip her nails.

“This is an odd ritual,” Matt commented, watching with a raised brow. “Is this universal or something, or are you two just fucking weird?”

“A combo I think?” Finn murmured filing a ragged edge with the tiny nail file attached to the clippers. It was hardly effective, but better than biting her nails.

“It’s kind of universal. Two things I always carry. Finn?”

“Fine. I was going to put it on when it stopped bleeding.” She slipped the clippers back in Zacky’s pocket and held her finger steady as he applied superglue beneath it and pressed the hard skin back onto the digit with the cap, careful not to get the tacky shit on his own skin.

“I feel like I’ve never seen you do this. It’s disgusting,” Matt murmured, still watching as Zacky ran his fingers over the tips of Finn’s fret fingers, checking to see if any of the other callouses were preparing to jump ship.

“It’s pretty common, but I don’t think people usually do it for each other. Though, I am very, very thankful, Zacky.” She added quickly as he blotted a dot of glue onto the side of her forefinger, dooming his pick-hand pinky to strange-feeling smoothness in the process.

“Yeah yeah, I get it. This happens to me with him all the fucking time. Brian just likes to be prepared.”

“Can't say I've seen him practice before this,” Finn mumbled, spreading her fingers wide and flexing them as Zacky put away the glue.

“That's because we did it before we left California.” Zacky ruffled her hair with his glue-free hand, smiling. “Hours and hours of practice. I can't even tell you how much of this shit we went through. Actually, come to think of it…”

He pulled the tiny bottle out and put it in the petite guitarists hands, closing her fingers over it. “Go, give him a peace offering.”

Finn lifted an eyebrow at the dark-haired man, who grinned.

“You're gonna want to after that little tantrum, kid.” Did every man in Avenged have to call her kid? She turned her lifted brow to Matt, who nodded in agreement.

“You'll want to get in his good graces. I don't think there's another room available here.”

“Cold, guys. Nobody offers to take me in?” She joked with a bitter laugh, pushing away from the bar, leaving a fresh drink behind. “Wish me luck,”

The pair were in deep conversation already, and she circled behind the group - which included Disturbed, who had not really grown on her yet. She had to reach through to tap Brian's shoulder, beckoning him from his position by the bar. She paced some distance away - out onto the cool patio - hoping he would follow. He did, slowly, lighting a cigarette.

“Hey. I just wanted to say I'm sorry,” Finn breathed deeply before the apology tumbled out of her. “I know you don't want us to fuck up and you want to make sure I look good and play the songs well because people will take me seriously. I want to do well for Avenged, I don't want y'all to regret… hiring me I guess. I'm sorry for throwing a fit.”

She peered up at him from beneath her long lashes, toying with the glue bottle in her fingers. She knew the look was effective - not unlike Puss in Boots’s big kitty eyes. Brian’s expression was hard, but after a moment of staring he seemed to melt under her gaze, offering her a drag of the cigarette.

“I know. I'm not used to playing with someone who gets this shit easily. I sure as shit don't. We write, I practice like hell, we record, I practice like hell, we go on tour.” Finn handed him the cigarette and reached for his fret hand, feeling his calloused fingertips gingerly. His middle finger was a mess.

“Can I fix that?” She asked, showing him the superglue in her left hand. At his nod, she uncapped the glue and sutured his finger back together, prodding it gently with her right pinky. As she put the cap back on, Brian cupped her chin with his uninjured hand, guiding her face so he could kiss her.

Finn was almost stunned - they had dialed the pda back around the Disturbed guys, not wanting to freak anyone out with their budding relationship. Or have calls of nepotism about her filling in for Zacky. But here they were, in front of a room full of prying eyes as he pulled her body to his, parting her lips with his tongue. Finn couldn't resist, she was putty in the man's hands. She felt his eyelashes against her cheeks and remembered her eyes were open, and let them slip shut as she surrendered to his grasp. There was something about knowing that there were prying eyes around that made the kiss even sweeter, for some reason. Finn dug her fingers into his mohawk, twining them into his thick pouf.

The cigarette was about to go out when he let her go, his heavily-lidded eyes lusty as he took a long drag to reignite the cherry.

“I promise I won't push you any more if you promise you've got this,” He linked his free pinky finger with hers, kissing her cheek as they passed the cigarette between their hands.

“I promise I've got this. I haven't just been listening to your music on this tour, Brian. I learned Unholy Confessions for-fucking-ever ago.”

The dark-haired guitarist grinned down at her, and she reached up tenderly to brush her fingers across his high cheekbones on their way to fix his hair, first flattening then teasing it back to its former glory. With a bit of grease and whatever pomade it was he used, the strands were almost desperate to stand at attention.

As was Brian, she realized as he pressed his lips into hers again.

“Knock it off, we’ve got shit to do,”

“Why do we always have shit to do?” His deep voice was almost whiny as he grinned down at her, knowing full well it was social hour rather than private time. She raised an eyebrow at him, snagging the cigarette for a deep breath. “I know, I know.”

The pair sauntered back in, and Finn was pleased to note that without Jay around, there was nobody there to wolf’s whistle raucously. They got a lifted eyebrow from David, the lead singer of disturbed, who seemed to tongue his double lip piercing thoughtfully as he decided weather or not to comment on what he had obviously just noticed out the window. And on Brian’s arm casually draped around Finn’s shoulder.

The grey-haired guitarist returned the superglue to Zacky’s waiting hand and retrieved her abandoned drink.

“An apology and a show,” He murmured softly so only Finn could hear. She fixed him with her most insolent grin and nestled closer to Brian’s side. “Kids, man,”

“You love us,” Brian had apparently heard his partner no matter how much he tried to lower his voice, and winked at him slyly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just glad I don’t have to listen to you fucks play God Damn again. It’s starting to get on my fucking nerves.”

As the pair of guitarists began to bicker, Finn disentangled herself from Brian’s side and moved toward the center of the pack of men. She ended up between Johnny and Dan Donegan, the guitarist from Disturbed.

“So what’s your claim to fame, kid?”

The man was almost unbelievably tall, and the need to crane her neck to see him drowned out her indignation for being called a kid for the second time in about as many minutes.

“Dan, this is Findlay, she plays in the Heathens.” Johnny came to her rescue with an explanation and a shot. She could have kissed the man if he wasn’t already married… She still gave him a look to let him know that at that moment he was her knight in shining armor. “Finn’s going to be subbing in for Zacky while he’s on maternity leave.”

“Johnny, I think it’s paternity leave…”

“Finn, it’s Zacky. Of course it’s maternity leave,” Finn giggled, clinking her shot glass to his before she downed the burning whiskey.

“All right, so you picked a dwarf who makes out with your bandmate to fill in,” Dan’s tone was dry, but his drooping green eyes twinkled with laughter. “You must be some fucking player,”

“Oh, you mean you didn’t hear us earlier? Don’t even need to practice, I’m so fucking good.” Her retort was just as dry as his comment, an eyebrow raised. Dan seemed to regard her incredulously for a minute and burst out laughing and gave her a thumbs up.

“You can stay.”

“Awesome. Can I fangirl for a minute? Fucking hell, The Sickness was one of the first fucking albums I bought!”

“How fucking old are you?!”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Shit kid, you must be really fucking good.”

“I’m not that great…” When she wasn't being cocky for the sake of a joke, Finn couldn't find it in herself to admit that she did in fact have some mad skills.

“Don’t lie to the man, Findlay. She’s really fucking good.” Zacky had turned around from behind Dan, popping his head around a meaty, crossed bicep. At least she wasn’t the only one that felt tiny next to him. But it was comforting to have the Avenged guys come to her rescue, like she was actually part of their band. Or their friend, at least.

“I mean, I’m glad I’m at least decent at music. It’s always been the only thing I’m good at,” She said with a self-deprecating laugh, leaning back on an errant stool with her arms crossed.

“What’s your rig?”

“I’ve play a ESP LTD EC,”

“Full size?”

“Fuck off! No.” She pouted, glaring up at the Disturbed guitarist. “I’ve got a very strong napoleonic complex, don’t fuck with me!”

“I get it, I get it! What kind of pedals?”

“Well, right now I have to use Zacky’s kit, it’s… interesting. My guitar, his pedals. But I actually use one of yours. And Dimebag’s Cry Baby on occasion, and Wylde’s Overdrive.”

“Keeping it pretty clean,” Dan nodded, frowning with approval.

“Yeah, our bassist is the dirty one. I like to solo.” She winked brightly, and found a shot in her hand.

“Back in my day, I’d be tempted to give Haner over there a run for his money,”

“Uh… It’s still your day?” Finn looked up at him concerned, and realized what she had just said. “I don’t mean it like that!”

“Done with me already?” Brian would pick that moment to swoop in, wrapping an arm around the grey-haired woman’s petite shoulders with a wry grin. “Man, that was quick,”

“I mean, you can’t expect me to limit myself to one living legend, can you?” Finn quipped, reaching for her drink on the bar.

“Man, remind me never to introduce you to my wife,” Johnny jabbed a finger into Finn’s ribs, making her double over with laughter, almost spilling her drink. “I just convinced her she has it all.”


	15. Chapter 15

The morning was bright - a little too bright for Finn after all the drinks she had consumed the night before, but she disentangled herself from Brian’s arms and got out of bed to stretch, ignoring his dissatisfied groan.

“I’ve gotta go out, got an appointment to keep.”

“Fucking… what?” He didn’t even pull his head out of the pillow, and Finn barked a laugh at his pain - ending up with a hand to her own head for her troubles.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so. It’s just down the street.”

She snatched up her wallet and phone, pocketing them in her jacket as she set off out of the hotel and down the street to the beauty parlor. She had been growing out the hair from the waist down for two weeks, and it was finally long enough to get a wax - something that was basically medically necessary when on tour. She was sick and tired of using razors every day.

Finn disrobed in the room she had been led to, following standard operating procedure of the salons she had been to in the past. It was long minutes before a woman walked in to help her, starting from the ankles up - but laying naked under a sheet always felt like long moments.

It wasn’t until she had to flip over to have her bikini area done that things got weird.

“And she looks at me and says, ‘I’ve seen you somewhere before, how do I know you?’” Finn recounted, drinking straight from a pitcher of beer. “I’m just waiting for her to rip hot fucking wax off my crotch, like, there’s no protocol for small talk when you get this far in the… procedure.”

The members of Avenged were arrayed around her at a table in a little pub somewhere in London, Brian and Zacky flanked her, Brooks and Matt on the other side, and Johnny at the other head of the table.

“It took her a bit to place me, I guess maybe she was a bit distracted -” Brian made a face as she spoke, probably a recollection of her wild hair, and she kicked him under the table viciously just in case.

“But! Finally! As she’s laying the very last strip of wax - which is in a fucking awful spot by the way - she looks up at me and goes, ‘OH!’” Finn did her best approximation of this woman’s realization face, eyes and mouth wide, while flailing her arms like she was ripping a wax strip off someone. “‘You’re that guitar girl that makes out with Syn!’”

The guys fell about the table, laughing and bashing fists against the table.

“Ok, but I had no idea who Syn was because I don't fucking call him that, and my ‘excuse me’ might have been laden with a lot of profanity. So, to shorten a long story, I might have… gotten thrown out a little. And asked not to return.” She stole the shot from in front of Brian, and socked it back before she continued. “But I swear to god, I didn’t mean it! I wasn’t being mean to her! Ah, fuck,”

Finn dropped her head back over the edge of the chair, cracking her back forcefully. As she pulled herself up to sit straight, Zacky looked at her with wide eyes.

“What? I do yoga.”

“Ok, but this woman was in and around your… area, and was asking you questions about Brian? Is that normal?”

“I don’t fucking know, Matt, I’ve never dated a fucking rockstar before,” The grey-haired woman shot back at the meaty singer, as the guitarist in question blushed.

“But, like, they talk to you?”

“Some of them try to, but it’s like being at the fucking dentist. Unless it’s medically necessary I don’t respond.” Finn shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “It’s a painful fucking process, really. Not something you can chat through.”

“Remind me never to get waxed,” Johnny stage whispered to Brooks, who shrugged.

“It’s not so bad,”

“Fucking what? Do we have a baby smooth drummer?!” Brian darted under Brooks’ wild swing and yanked at his belt as if he were going to disrobe him. Finn reached wildly for the larger man’s belt, pulling him back into his chair.

“It’s just my fucking chest, Haner, fuck off!” The drummer looked indignant as he shielded himself, clutching his belt and pants in both hands.

“Should I wax my chest?” Brian’s tenuous stage whisper cut the palpable silence and set the men to laughing again as Finn tried to hold it in, staring levelly at the guitarist until she joined in, throwing her head back.

“I’ll take that as a… no?” He glared around as the waitress delivered new shots to the rowdy group.

“But in all seriousness Finn, you’re gonna do me proud in a few days, right?” Zacky asked, his piercing blue eyes staring at the grey-haired guitarist, even as he accepted a beer from the waitress in addition to his shot.

Finn was taken aback, staring at Zacky with wild eyes. He was doubting her now?

“Fucking Christ, calm down Findlay. I’m just asking how comfortable you are with the fucking show.”

“Well, we won’t fucking know until you’re in the thick of it, won’t we Finby?”

This was quite the role reversal - Brian defending her from Zacky’s worry instead of the other way around when she had been so exhausted from practice that she had thrown a fit.

The tension between the pair was palpable, and only cut by the sound of Matt reaching over his fellow guitarists to light Findlay’s cigarette. She puffed thoughtfully on the cancer stick as she glared between the pair, eyebrows furrowed.

“Alright, can we all take this shot please?” Brooks sounded impatient, he had been holding the glass aloft for a couple minutes, waiting on his band mates. Findlay took up her shot glass, holding it up as close as she could to Brooks’.

“I fucking agree! Shot!”

Slowly, the guys lifted their glasses one by one to cheers together, and dropped empty glasses to the table with a clunk.

“I think Finn’s going to be great, Zacky. She’ll do you proud,” It was Finn’s turn to blush scarlet as Matt complemented her, reaching to squeeze her hand on the table. If they hadn’t been so drunk it would have been an intensely awkward moment, Finn mused.


	16. Chapter 16

Findlay checked her gear for the billionth time, strumming her ESP to ensure it was still in tune and to check the levels in her ear.

Tonight, Avenged would be bringing her onstage for a dry run, letting her go to town on God Damn with Brian as Zacky took an exaggerated break. Which meant Finn was soundchecking with the guys and pretending not to be nervous. One was easier than the other.

“Ok, just the beginning. I don't wanna play the whole song.” Brian spoke into his mic, testing it in the empty stadium. “Are you doing the singing thing, Finn? Nobody ever told me…”

“She doesn't have Zacky’s range. Shocker,” Matt proclaimed over the speakers with a well-intentioned grin at the guitarist as she walked onstage. It was true, while her alto complemented her brother’s baritone, she would have had to exert tremendous focus to hit Zacky’s notes. “So Christ is up!”

Johnny didn't seem entirely pleased with the declaration, but moved to his microphone gamely as Finn climbed up to Zacky signature spot opposite Brian, strumming the beginning to minutemen’s “Corona” of Jackass fame.

“Well, on that note…”

Finn schooled her fingers to stillness, shaking out her wrists away from the fret board until she looked across at Johnny for her cue. The bassist breathed in and nodded, and they both began to strum as one. Thank god she had learned how to deal with conducting in college or she would have been fucked, Finn mused as she played, taking care not to wander away from Zackys pedals.

“Pledge allegiance, no flag, Zack’s got pedals, right here, he likes to come down here and use them, and now the fire keeps us warm.” Matt ad libbed, beckoning Finn down from the top of the stairs and pointing at Zacky’s second kit. She followed his direction, ignoring the temptation to slide down the railing because she didn't think it was sturdy enough for even her petite frame and walking to the pedals at Matt's right.

“Very good. Don't forget about the elephant stands,” Matt pointed to the platforms at the front of the stage that he and they pair of guitarists were fond of standing during solos or particularly important vocal moments. Finn hopped up on the one beside Zacky’s auxiliary pedals, spun a pirouette on one converse-clad toe and hopped down.

“Oh, this is gonna be good. Are you sure you don't want to give her back my solos, Brian?” Zacky was at his mic, hands stacked calmly at the intersection of the neck and body of his guitar. He seemed to be patiently waiting for them to end their soundcheck so he could continue. Finn glanced over at Brian and sauntered to him, waiting for him to drop his hands.

“He will never stop playing, Findlay, y'all have to take initiative.”

“I think he's pretending he didn't hear about solos, Zacky.” Johnny was at his mic, arms crossed. With a sigh, Finn raised her hands into the air, palms out as if she surrendered.

“Yeah that guy you like? He's a monster on stage,” Matt laughed, patting Finn on the head as she walked past. Brian was still playing, but finally piped into the conversation.

“I'm not a fucking monster, Matt, fuck. You trying to cockblock me or something?”

“Yeah we'll have to keep the Finn-based banter to a minimum during the show,” Johnny realized over the speakers as Finn shed her guitar backstage, watching from the wings as the guys restarted their check.

She focused on Zacky's kit, where he moved when and why he did. She had been doing this for so long that she had been embarrassed to forget about his second set of pedals - but then again, she had seen the man literally run across stage to make a singing cue before, so she wasn't that bad.

Still, the pressure to succeed was enormous. Finn found herself with nerves before the show, nerves she tried to settle with a beer and a cigarette on top of an amp backstage while Disturbed did their thing.

The grey-haired guitarist didn't realize Brian had crossed to her side of the stage - Zacky’s side - until his hands fell on either of her knees, his tawny eyes level with her smoke greys. He didn’t speak - he would have had to shout in her ear to be heard over Disturbed’s rage - but the look in his eyes was enough. Finn tilted her cheek to rest against his, her hands occupied with her beer and cigarette. His lips fell on her gauged earlobe, and he nibbled it gently for a feeling second before they brushed across her cheek.

Brian relieved her of her beer and set it aside so he could pull her into his chest, stroking her long waves with gentle fingers. Finn pushed one hand into his back pocket and tucked her thumb into the other, holding her cigarette away from his clothes with the fingers. She was sure it was about to go out. After the recent petty squabbles regarding her abilities onstage, it was a sweet moment alone for the pair of guitarists.

At least, it was until Zacky and Johnny walked up, ready to strap on guitars as Disturbed’s set rolled to a close. Instead, they turned to one another with open arms and started a hug-fest of their own to mock the pair. Finn didn’t need to look up to know that the hand Brian freed from her hair displayed a proud middle finger.

She tilted her head back to stare up at him with a faint smile, and he pulled her lips to his with a hand on either side of her face, holding her steady for a long minute. It was quiet in her world, as if the band behind her wasn’t just bashing through one of their hardest songs, just her and Brian making out on an amplifier. None of their usual playful banter, just the softness of his lips against hers.

Then, he was gone. Back to his side of the stage… taking her beer with him. Finn shook her head, cursing the man vilely, her words lost in the din as she watched Johnny and Zacky’s guitar techs strap on their mixes. She pulled her feet back under her thighs, sitting with her legs crossed as she leaned to peer across the stage. Brooks waved back at her like a crazy person - grinning wildly and using both hands to salute the grey-haired guitarist. With a chuckle, she waved back at the blonde-haired man, wondering about how crazy her life had become. Not for the first time - not even for the first time that day.

It was more than she ever could have dreamed. Going on tour with a hugely famous band had been exciting enough, and was a sign to her bandmates that they were at least halfway decent at what they did (Tor said she was being too modest about this fact). Finding an actual relationship for once in her goddamn life - no matter how fleeting she figured it was doomed to be - had been icing on the proverbial cake. Being asked to play for Avenged in Zacky’s absence was forcing her to admit that she might have some skill at guitar, which she had very rarely found evidence of in the past. Too self-deprecating was what her twin said.

Finn was pulled out of her revelry by Brooks and Matt, who were making a heart with their hands toward her. She turned her head to make sure they weren’t fucking around with Johnny and Zacky and pointed to her own face, miming looking around comically. When the pair insistently pointed at her, she feigned shock and furtively made a heart back to the pair, pretending to look around for Brian. It seemed like Matt was finally warming up to her as she proved she wasn’t just going to dump Brian, and she considered it sprinkles on the cake that was this tour. Really, the thing was piled high with toppings.

Their exchange was cut short as Disturbed finished their set and the guys had to focus on starting their set. Pieces were moved relatively quickly to take the stage from Disturbed to Sevenfold - including a drum kit exchange on a wheeled platform. Finn had seen the exchange from band to band probably a hundred times - and even practiced it herself! - but still was awestruck by the efficiency of the stage hands.

Finn shared a fist bump with Zacky before he walked on stage, and she found herself in the familiar position of watching the show - albeit from the other side of the stage. She settled in to wait, snagging a beer from the case they kept on this side of stage. The guys weren’t very picky about their beer - though Brian preferred Guinness and often had one a case of his own - and today she found herself with a bottle of Newcastle, which she was fond of. She would have preferred a can of Strongbow, but she’d take what she could get after her last beer was stolen.

The man in question was in the middle of pumping out a solo on one of the “elephant stands,” that trademark grin plastered on his face, his heavily-lidded eyes closed as he “felt” the music. As much as her friends and bandmates claimed, Finn had decided she would never have that level of stage presence, and that wasn’t going to cripple her career at all. There was something about the way he handled himself and his instruments that made women go wild - and men either admire him or get angry as their girlfriends threw their panties. The five of them all together were a force to be reckoned with.

After a few songs, almost halfway through the set, Finn found herself with Zacky’s tech, being strapped up with a mix, the box tucked in her back pocket. He held his arms out, and she followed, demonstrating she could move alright as he handed her one of her guitars - the flat black one, today - and turned the volume on the body all the way down as he plugged her into the speakers.

She gave him the thumbs up and turned toward stage, sliding her guitar so the stock pointed down and the body rested behind her back so she could cross her arms and lean on one hip. How was she going to top Zacky, she mused as she watched him throw his pick into the crowd after a solo, plucking another one from his mic stand. With a sigh, she realized that all eyes would probably be on her… boyfriend? Lover? What did they call themselves at this juncture in their relationship, anyway? Coworkers?

The crowd went wild as they finished Nightmare, and Finn took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and flipping her hair back as she pulled her guitar around to proper playing position. She usually preferred to stroll on stage playing, but Zacky’s tech shook his finger at her as she began to pace. Matt’s banter between songs had never felt so long.

“Hey guys, remember when I said we had a surprise for you?” Matt asked the crowd as Finn took a fresh beer from Zacky’s tech, attempting to thank him nonverbally as he walked away. “So this guy, Mr. Vengeance, is fucking leaving us because he knocked up his wife or some shit nine months ago.

“It was a good time all around,” Zacky murmured into his mic, looking at Matt mischievously. “I found a replacement, though. Pretty sweet shredder. I think you’ve met.”

“We were just gonna have Syn try to play all the fucking parts. He was looking into growing an extra fucking arm, but thanks to this lovely young woman, he doesn’t have to go through all of that!”

“No, seriously guys, be nice. I would never have gotten laid again if I had a third fucking arm.” Brian shook his fingers at his bandmates as well as the crowd.

“I bet you’re dying to find out who it is?” Zacky pulled his guitar off, leaning it against an amp next to his microphone. “Well, you’ve probably seen her with us before. She plays for a little band called the Heathens.” Finn was shocked at the cheer that went up in the German crowd. She had no idea that her little band was even popular in Germany!

“And! She’s a fucking beer goddess,” Johnny contributed from one of the mics downstage from Zacky’s little platform.

“Yeah, that’s the only reason we hired her.” The eye roll in Matt’s voice was palpable, even if it wasn’t visible from behind his shades. “Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Findlay O'Shaughnessy!”

Instead of running on stage and probably falling on the way, Findlay strolled on like she owned the place, sipping her beer.

“Oh god, look at this. Five feet tall and more swagger than all of us.” Brian commented dryly into his mic as Zacky ‘confronted’ her, holding his hand out to take her beer. Holding up one finger, Finn chugged it and handed the empty bottle to Zacky as Brian and Brooks cracked up. “Finn’s going to play a song for you, and you guys can decide if we keep her or not.” The mohawked guitarist added with a laugh, giving her a thumbs up.

“We’ll probably keep her anyway, she’s definitely hotter than Zacky,” Matt pointed at the small grey-haired woman, who tossed her hair in response. Being mute on stage was hard, but she didn’t want to have to move Zacky’s mic to talk.

“God, enough chit chat, I’m not getting any younger here,” The guitarist in question hopped up on one of his amps, watching Finn as if he was suspicious of her. Finn stuck her tongue out at him and looked over to Johnny with a nod. She was ready.

She followed Johnny’s cue, and the crowd went wild as they recognized the song. God Damn was always one of their hits, and Finn liked it because she ended up with a bit of a solo after the second verse. That solo found her up on the elephant stand on her side of the stage, eyes closed and her toe tapping.

For the last bit of the intricate harmonizing guitar line, Brian stood beside her, his effortless playing making her feel simultaneously like the worst guitarist in the world, and thrilled to be standing beside him. It wasn’t like she hadn’t played with him, and hadn’t played huge crowds before, but she had never done both together. It was thrilling.

As they struck the ending chords and tried not to look up at each other like lovers, Finn stuck her fists in the air, high-fiving the guitarist. Matt darted his way between them, forcing them off the center elephant stand, crouching with one hand to his ear and the other with the thumb stuck out to the side like that scene in Gladiator. What a showman.

Giving into the show, Finn pretended to be waiting with bated breath, her hands over her mouth.

“Oh, fuck you Shadz, we’re keeping her anyway,” Zacky called into his microphone as he buzzed by with beers, throwing one at Brooks up in his drum kit as his tech tried to get the guitar back on him, obviously cursing him as he moved. The tech, whose name was Mike, was bitter that he hadn’t been asked to take Zacky’s place instead, as had been standard operating procedure with Johnny. But while Johnny was a little more independent on stage, it was extremely important to find someone who jived with Brian. At least, that was the explanation the guitarists had given their tech.

“Ok, fine. Get the fuck off my stage. It’s still mine!” Zacky shot at her as she retreated, taking his empty beer from his hand as she did.


	17. Chapter 17

Safely backstage, Finn pulled her guitar off and set it on the rack, and realized she was shaking. She deposited the empty beer bottle from Zacky in the trash and finished her own with relish, reaching for a cigarette so she would have something to do with her hands. She couldn't gauge her own performance - especially not when she had been standing next to Haner. She hadn't thought to gauge the crowd’s reaction. All there was to do now was wait.

The guys ended up doing an encore that night, as if to add to her stress of waiting, thinking she was probably about to fired and broken up with, maybe even in that order.

She had wandered backstage into the green room to watch the event play out on screen, and so that she didn't have to see the crowd any more. She could see Brian glance over to her side of stage every so often, missing the grey-haired guitarist’s presence. Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t like she hadn’t played crowds just as large on her own. Maybe it was because she had someone else’s reputation to uphold.

“Hey, we were going to call you onstage for an encore,” Brian’s arms wrapped around her shoulders as the band arrived in the green room, chattering excitedly after their show.

“Sorry,”

“Overwhelmed?” Zacky asked, sitting on the back of the couch with a beer, watching as Haner rested his chin on the top of her head, his tattooed arms crossed over her chest.

“You bet.” Finn let herself sink against Brian’s chest, her hands on his forearms. “Sorry, I let myself get into the ‘wow, I’m so fucking lucky’ thought spiral and now… well, here we are. Sorry, guys. Don’t want to bring anyone down.” Haner squeezed her harder, his thumbs running over her bare shoulders.

“Hey now. Let’s go ahead and distract you from that for a bit, shall we?” Johnny sat next to Zacky on the couch, leaning back against the ratty cushions. “Let’s go play some pool or something. Sign some autographs and get gone.”

“We’ve got those backstage pass-ers to deal with,” Brian murmured, pressing his lips to her temple.

“I think Matt and Brooks are out there. Why don’t you and Finn go ahead and we’ll meet you?” Zacky said, nudging Johnny with his elbow. The pair left Brian and Finn alone in the green room, standing with their bodies pressed together.

“Is everyone ok?” Finn asked, wondering why everyone fucking beat it at the first sign of emotional distress. “Like, I didn’t want to ruin the mood. You can go meet your fans,”

“We’re a little sensitive to anxiety, Finby.” She turned in his arms to look up at the tired-eyed guitarist, who moved a hand to her cheek to stroke under her eye with his thumb. “Jimmy could get like this after shows. We know how to deal with it. And if you need me, I’m here. Actually, fuck you, I’m just gonna hang out here and if you want to stay I’d appreciate it.”

Finn let a weak smile spread across her lips, thinly, resting her head against his shoulder. She felt a pang of sadness, making him think of Jimmy.

“Finn, it’s been eight years. I’m not over it, but I’ve accepted it. And I won’t ever let it happen again.”

“How did you know…”

“Because I love you.”

Her eyes snapped open, staring at the ceiling in Brian’s embrace, and she knew she had stiffened at the words she had never heard before. Especially not from a lover. Well, not one that sounded like he meant it.

“Relax, Findlay, I’m not just saying shit to make you happy.” His murmur was dark and soft in her ear, his lips brushing against the ridge of her cartilage. “And fuck if I ever thought I’d be saying this to some crazy-haired girl in a dirty fucking green room,”

Finn grinned - she couldn’t help it. He sounded so damn shocked by his own admonition, like he was still trying to think over what he had just said to her himself. Like his heart had moved before his brain.

“Brian, I… Fuck,”

“Don’t. I’ll wait. I guess I just thought it’s good for you to know.”

What was it about him, she mused, smiling into his lean chest. She let her arms tighten around his waist, trying to hold him closer when their bodies were already almost a sinuous line. It wasn’t that he was different than the kind of man she was attracted to. It certainly wasn’t a purely visceral reaction - he wasn’t the largest man she had slept with, and certainly wasn’t the most visually appealing. But he had a… sweetness. A vulnerability he let her see.

“What’s on your mind?” His question dropped her out of her line of reasoning, the logic trying to figure out why she would love a man like Brian fucking Haner.

“I’m trying… Fuck, Brian, I’m trying to figure out why I love you,”

“Well that’s honestly not the way I expected to hear that...”

“Are you surprised?” She certainly didn’t think he should be. To her, at this point in their relationship, she had been nothing but a ball of strange and unpredictable energy. Even more of a reason why she was confused.

Brian’s lips crashed upon hers, he held her body close with a hand on the back of her head and another around her narrow waist. She let her fingers reach for the sides of his face, holding his lips to hers as she searched for his tongue behind his teeth. He puller her closer than she thought possible, her heels lifting off the ground under his grasp. She let one eye sneak open, looking up over his smooth cheekbone.

“Close your fucking eye, Finn, let me have this,” His murmur was soft against her lips, and she did as she was told, letting the feeling of him take her. His fingertips searched under the edge of her shirt, his callouses pressing against her skin. His touch against her bare skin sent a shiver up her spine, and she gripped his face harder against hers. She heard the door open, but he didn’t let them part, kissing her like whoever had walked in didn’t exist until they left.

“Finby,”

“Brian?”

“I do. Love you.” She looked up at the dark-haired guitarist, his sly smile, his half-closed tawny eyes. The guitarist let her hands roam over his lips, the rest of his face, like she was Helen Keller searching for how to say ‘water.’

“Don’t say it yet, Finn. Don’t push. I want you to be comfortable. I… fucking hell, I want you to fucking mean it.”

She sunk her lips onto his again, holding him against her as hard as she could. Finn felt him relax into her grasp, holding her tightly but surrendering to her grip.

“God damn it, Bri, I love you,” The door started to open a crack, and closed. Brian held her against him for a few more moments - and she realized she had relaxed into his strong arms, let him bear her against him for the first time that night. She felt small in his arms, but… in a good way. After a few moments she realized she wasn’t even kissing him anymore, she had simply surrendered with her face nestled into his shoulder.

“Findlay,” He seemed to be unraveling around her, releasing her from his grip. “Finn, we’re still in the fucking green room in Frankfurt. Do you wanna go back?”

She appreciated that he didn’t say home. The grey-haired guitarist let herself flow back away from the man whose arms dwarfed her.

“No. Let’s go for a drink.”

Brian smiled down at her, and she reached up to fix his disheveled mohawk, twisting it into its signature bouffant as he smoothed her grey locks.

“Thank god. I’m not sure if I could handle any more emotions right now,” He murmured with a chuckle, pressing his lips against her temple.

“I love you,” She murmured, as he pulled away.

“Getting used to saying it, huh?” Brian raised an eyebrow at her, his smile wide. “Let’s see where the guys went, I’m pretty sure they came in and out a few times while we were... busy.”


	18. Chapter 18

The grey-haired guitarist leaned against her lover’s - no, her love’s - chest at the bar, leaning to accept a pair of drinks from the bartender. She passed one to Brian, who skillfully traded it for his cigarette.

There had been plenty of “fucking star-crossed lovers” comments from the guys, shrugging them off with wry grins as Finn texted her brother about the night’s events.

‘Fucking hell finby, you said you loved him? Where’s the twin love, you never told me!’

‘It just slipped out, tor, idfk. Meant it though.’

“Hey! Finn!” Zacky was blitzed, probably because it was his last full night on tour. “Fiiiiiiiiinn! Finn Finn Finn! How do you like the Stage!” He held his arms out to his side like he was Johnny Christ, who held him by the waist like the guitarist was on the prow of the Titanic.

“It’s great, Zack. Really!” Finn ducked out from under Brian’s arm to grab the guitarist’s face in her hands, holding it so she could stare into his bright blue eyes with her stormy greys. “Fucking thanks. For thinking I’m good enough,”

He kissed her cheek sloppily, with a big grin plastered on his face. “Did you know Haner has his eyeliner tattooed on?” He tried for a stage whisper, but it was almost a shout in her ear.

“Not gonna lie, I’m fucking jealous. You don’t know what I go through every day,” Finn replied, patting him on his cheek as she tried to pull away from the blue-eyed heathen. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling the smaller woman into his chest as she tried to pull away, leaving her with his arms wrapped around the back of her neck, her hair piled around her head.

“Fuck, y’all, help!” She flailed her arms, as Brian grabbed her and Johnny more solidly restrained the drunker guitarist.

“No more shots for you, ole blue eyes,” Johnny murmured, freeing Finn’s hair from Zacky’s arms.

“And here I thought about getting a tattoo tonight.” Finn leaned on a barstool just out of Zacky's reach with a sigh, accepting a fresh beer from Matt.

“Oh, no, we can and should still do that.” He rasped, sitting on the stool beside her. “What're we getting?”

“We're getting a tattoo?” Brian asked, casually leaning on Matt's shoulder as he regarded the smaller guitarist. “What're we getting?”

“Well I was going to get one but if you guys want one too… maybe we should do this tomorrow? If we're all getting one it seems mean to leave Zachary out.”

“Ugh. I guess.”

“Always spoiling our fun,”

Finn smiled at the pair and glanced across the bar, noting their techs and most of the stage hands had already gone to sleep. Like smart humans. It was probably close to 2am already.

“Well, that and I don't think I'll be up much later anyway,” She mused, glancing at her phone. “Fuck, it's like almost 3!”

“Shhh,” Brian's long fingers closed over her phone and he pocketed it, his other index finger to his lip. “I won't tell them if you don't.”

Rolling her eyes, Finn dug for a cigarette in his back pocket. Brian leaned in to press his lips to her ear as she lit it, relieving her of the lighter.

“When you're done with that, let me take you to bed,” His murmur was hot against her ear and it took a lot to school her face to stillness, thinking instead about whether or not a tattoo parlor would be open at nearly three in the morning. With her fingers wrapped in his, the pair walked out of the hotel bar and onto the street, followed by the cacophony of the members of Avenged - including Zacky, who was barely on his feet.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Finn murmured up at the guitarist, taking a deep breath of her cigarette.

“I think I saw a shop down the street earlier today,” Brian replied out of the corner of his mouth, his eyebrow raised at the grey-haired woman under his arm. To be fair, he did seem like he was leading, walking with purpose in front of the rag-tag group. Zacky and Brooks, at least, were far too drunk to consent to tattoos, Finn realized as she saw the light of the parlor still buzzing.

The pair walked in, Brian holding the door for his bandmates as Finn walked to the front desk, smiling in what she hoped was a sober manner. Or sober enough.

“Y’all are open awfully late tonight!” Oh boy. For a woman who grew up in the deep south - she and Tor got their start in Atlanta - she prided herself on lack of an accent. Until she started drinking. It was cuter when she was at home in the states, had even gotten her laid on occasion, but here the black-haired woman didn't even look up before she replied in a posh British accent.

“We’re not open to the public this evening, dear, but thank you for coming in.” She looked up from her paperwork, and Finn had the distinct pleasure of watching her eyes grow wide with shock. “Oh, wow, uh, I think we might be able to squeeze you guys in somewhere,”

Findlay glanced around the nearly empty shop with a quirked eyebrow as Johnny leaned heavily on her shoulder and offered the tattooed girl a hand.

“Johnny Christ, nice to meet you.”

“Uh, Tamara.” She accepted the hand as if Johnny might bite, shaking it rather delicately. “If I can just nip to the back to see who's still here,”

“Only four of us are gonna get ink I think. Four tops.” Finn supplied in the interest of being helpful, noting Brooks and zacky who were certainly too drunk to sit for ink.

Finn watched as the woman retreated to the back of the shop, admiring her tattoos.

“I hope we have her artist,” She mused, hugging Johnny close.

“What will you get?” He asked, as Finn felt another hand caress the small of her back.

“Thinking a skull. With flowered wings.” She grinned up at Johnny and Matt behind bunch turning to see Brian with his hand on her back.

“A deathbat?” Her lover asked, his dark eyes bright with laughter.

“I guess you could say that. Kinda.”

“I approve,” Matt grinned down at the lithe guitarist, his hand mussing her grey hair. Finn grinned up at the bearded singer as Brian pulled her into his chest. She couldn't figure out why he was so hot and cold about her, but found that she lived for the moments when they were on good terms.

“It's adorable,”

“Ugh, don't call me adorable,” Finn resisted Brian's embrace as he kissed her forehead, grinning nonetheless. “What'll y'all get? If I'm getting an Avenged tat?”

“I could get a Heathens tat,” Brian set his chin atop her grey hair, his arm around her shoulder and the burly lead singer beside her.

“What would that be?” Finn retorted, feeling feisty from the drink as the receptionist returned with a pair of tattoo artists.

In minutes, the guys were all (even Zacky and Brooks) set on getting the Heathen’s tiny logo - an H with one of the bars off kilter in red - and Finn was under the gun getting an interpretation of a deathbat that she was already regretting. It wasn’t that the piece was ugly - just large, and would take a long time.

A lot longer than she had anticipated.


	19. Chapter 19

“What the fuck are those?” Brian asked, pointing at the sheet of temporary tattoos in Finn’s hand. She had been considering applying one to her already tattooed arms just for a bit of sparkle, and to distract from the saran wrap she would have to wear over her new tattoo on stage. She had been in the shop - with Brian - all night. The pair hadn’t even been able to catch a nap before they had to be on the plane.

“They're flash tattoos. Least, that's what the girl at the shop called them. She gave me a sheet.”

“Why would you need those?” He pulled the sheet from her hands, inspecting the sheet closely.

“Need some readers there grandpa? I don't know, they're shiny. I like shiny.”

“All women like shiny, babe.” It was his turn to tease as he handed the sheet back to her. “And my vision is perfect. Flawless.”

“Do you know how far your nose was from that sheet, Haner?” She kissed his forehead and leaned back in her seat.

They were on a plane heading from Germany to France - Paris, to be exact - and Finn was ridiculously excited to explore the city of lights. Even if getting on and off the plane was going to take longer than the flight itself. She had tried to convince the guys that it would be better to take a train, but they were staunchly against it. They had even gotten shitty seats - three in one row and two behind with a stranger.

“I can't put them on now anyway. You've gotta have a wet paper towel.”

“I had these way back when,” Matt was peering between the seat backs, and reached a thick arm through to ask for the sheet. She passed it to him.

“What, back in the Great Depression?” Finn stuck her tongue out at the singer, wondering why she had decided to go with ageism to tease the guys today. There were so many other, more creative topics.

“If you put one on, I will.” The black-haired guitarist dared the beefy singer, taking the sheet back and looking it over carefully.

“For the show tonight?”

“Yes.”

“It has to be visible.”

“Yes.”

With a sigh, Finn leaned back in her chair, letting the pair bicker as she dug through the seat pouch in front of her for the tabloid she had brought to occupy the half an hour of air time they had. It was in German, so it wasn’t like she could really read it super well - she had studied German in high school and was by no means fluent - but it was a welcome distraction. She could have just chatted with the guys around her, but where was the fun in that? She flipped through the magazine on the tray table in front of her, absently flipping one of her gauges in an out of her ear until Brian punched her arm.

“Why do you do that?!” He held her hand still in his lap, his thumb stroking the meat of her palm. “You know that stinks, right?”

“I don’t smell it anymore I guess. I clean them every day!”

“Yeah yeah. They still smell. Hot, but stinky.” Finn stuck her tongue out at the black-haired man as she flipped the page. “Hey, wait… What the fuck is that?”

Findlay followed his finger to the second page - she hadn’t read quite so far yet, struggling with cognates in the captions of a picture of Brad Pitt - and felt her jaw drop. There, in living color, was a series of pictures - like a paparazzi photo strip - of her and Brian, strolling, holding hands, kissing with a smile.

“Oh, fuck me,”

“What, what is it?” Matt and Johnny had spun around in their seats, reaching for the magazine, hardly disturbing Brooks who slept soundly in the seat next to them. Brian sat next to some older woman who looked insanely upset about being forced to sit in the tattooed section of the plane, and she looked about ready to press the flight attendant call button over the hullabaloo next to her.

“Calm down, I’ll pass it up. Let me try to read this.” Finn waved their hands away, holding the magazine close to her face as if that was going to help her comprehension.

“You read German?”

“I used to. Not so great at it any more though.” She squinted at the words, sounding them out slowly to try to help jog her linguistic memory.

“Let me,” The woman next to Brian held out a hand, still frowning as she offered to help. “I can’t listen to you slaughter my language, let me read it to you.”

Shocked, Finn passed the magazine to the lady, who snatched it out of her hand and read the caption aloud to the group.

“It says: ‘Spotted in Frankfurt: Synyster Gates (aka. Brian Haner, Jr., 35) of metal band Avenged Sevenfold is seen canoodling with tour mate Findlay O’Shaughnessey (27) of the Heathens. We’re coveting Findlay’s vintage Danzig shirt and lacy bralette combo as well as her dinner date.’”

Blinking, Findlay shook her head, trying to figure out who the hell wrote their captions at the tabloid as Brian thanked the woman and recovered the magazine, which Johnny immediately snatched out of his hands.

“Well that’s… fucking bizarre…” She murmured numbly, looking up at the poufy-haired man next to her. “I didn’t know you were famous enough to rate for pap coverage,”

“I guess it’s happened before, but not in like a legit tabloid.” Finn frowned, peering between the seats at the singer and bassist as they inspected the pictures.

“Well, at least you look good?” Matt tossed the magazine back over the seatback - Finn narrowly managed to deflect it onto the tray in front of her. It lay with the photos face-down on the table before she flipped it over. “Is that my shirt? How did you get my shirt?”

She had curled her waist-length locks that day, a curl that still hung softly at the ends of her hair on the plane. She wore a stupid black hat that haloed her face - which she had promptly lost shortly after these photos had been taken, actually. Brian had been making fun of her headwear in the pictures, even, having tilted the hat down over her face with one finger and snuck in for a kiss as she was righting it. Her usual outfit - sleeveless band t, blood red bralette, torn black jeans, blood red Doc Martens - was topped with a red flannel she had lifted from Matt, because Tor had taken all of his home and Brian had an annoying habit of not wearing them.

In the pictures, he looked every inch the guitar god he was, in a low-cut gray v-neck that showed off his chest tattoo, dark jeans and a pair of black and white boots he was fond of. His patched and studded jean jacket was slung over his shoulder, hooked on a pair of fingers, and the other hand held hers firmly. He grinned as he dragged her along, she remembered having to take two steps to each of his to keep up with the man in the mirrored aviators that day, chasing down the rest of the guys after they had been late getting out of the hotel.

“Yep. That’s definitely your flannel.”

“You stole that from Matt? I thought it was Tor’s!” Brian poked her in the ribs.

“He left it at the bar! If he wanted it that bad he’d take better care of it!” Finn seized his hand and held it in hers, squeezing it hard, ignoring Matt as he flipped her off from the seat in front of them.

“You can have it back I guess. I'll just get one for Brian and steal it.” The singer turned in his seat to look at the grey-haired guitarist, one eyebrow cocked questioningly. The guitarist beside her had a similar expression, his lips pursed. After a moment, they both shook their heads in wonder.

“Dude. Women are weird.”

“And you even married one,”

“I’d leave her in a heartbeat for you, Brian.” Matt reached through the seat to touch Brian's cheek - he had definitely jostled Brooks by that point, but it seemed he was comatose or dead.

“Shut up, Matt, don't tell the world our secrets!”

Finn rolled her eyes and snapped a picture of the tabloid, to send to Tor when they landed. Brian grinned at her brilliantly and leaned to touch his grin to her lips.

“And y'all think women are weird?” She murmured against his mouth, ducking under his arm as he lifted it. “Think we're landing soon?”

Brian opened his mouth to reply and was interrupted by the pilot asking they put their tray tables and seat backs in the upright position for the descent. Finn did as she was instructed and settled back against his chest, curling her feet up to her chest. Seeing her face in a magazine about bands was weird enough, but the tabloid took the cake.

As they started their rapid descent, Finn giggled to herself.

“What's up?” How Brian had such great hearing as a rockstar Finn had no idea.

“Just thinking how weird it is to be in a tabloid. And then I thought of this time AP ran a story on Tor and I as a ‘Power Couple.’”

“Fucking what??”

“You heard me. They didn't think it was at all strange or inappropriate.”

“That's fucking weird, Finn.” Johnny piped, turning in his seat just in time to get reprimanded by a flight attendant.

“Don't I know it. People think we're together a lot. Probably because we don't look that alike.”

“Uh, you guys look like fucking twins,” Johnny called from in front of them.

Fin texted her brother the picture as they taxied up to the gate, leaning her head on Brian's sinewy chest. For the billionth time she wondered why the guitarist liked her, had picked her out of all of the floozies that surrounded him if it wasn't for the idea of conquest. So far, she hadn't seen anything to indicate he felt that way about her.

“Hey, Finn! Earth to grey hairs!” Brian was shifting beneath her as she was lost in thought, moving toward the aisle so they could get off the plane. “We’re in Paris, Finby! Let me buy you a drink!”

Finn tucked her phone into her purse and accepted his hand up, pulling her purse and the magazine with her. She trailed behind the man with her hand wrapped in his. Why was she so comfortable with him?

As they deplaned, Brian pulled her to the side of the end of the gangplank, brushing her hair out of her face before he placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Babe. Look here. There is nothing wrong about being photographed. It was a weird fluke, but I can't give a shit who sees us together. It's weird, I know. But I love you, Finn.” He looked concerned as he gazed at her with his heavily lidded tawny eyes.

“I don't know why, but I love you too, Bri.” She grasped his tattooed wrists, holding him tightly. He grasped the side of her face to kiss her lips softly.

He wrapped his fingers around her hand as he pulled away, gazing at the grey-haired guitarist lustily before he steered her down the gangplank, after the rest of the band.

“You might want to toss that before we get to baggage claim,” Brian instructed as an aside, just in time for her to chuck the offensive magazine into a trash can so she could dedicate both hands to fishing her phone out of her small purse. Though it be but little, there was a ton of shit in it. He was right, it would be weird to be photographed looking quite so self aware.

Finn grabbed for his hand as she texted her brother, who had just gotten her picture.

‘Wait, what am I looking at?’

‘Paparazzi picture from Frankfurt. Surreal af,’

‘Don't get us in trouble Finn,’

The grey-haired guitarist pondered what he meant as she hurried after Brian and the rest of the guys, flipping her phone in circles between her finger and thumb as she walked.

‘I don't know what you mean.’

She felt as though she was on autopilot as she hefted her bag off the conveyor, setting it on its wheels next to Matt’s as the rest of the band retrieved or waited to retrieve their effects.

‘Don't turn their fans against us,’ Finn had to read the text a few times before she shoved her phone in her pocket, glaring at nothing.

“You alright, kid?” Matt looked down at her, leaning with his thick arm between the buns on top of her head, taking advantage of her diminutive stature. Finn shrugged, unable to focus her gaze and continued to stare blankly at the bags as they went around on the conveyor belt. Normally, she would have complained and ducked away from his arm, but she couldn't find it in her to care at that moment. “Findlay?”

“Fuck, sorry.” Finn stared down at her hands, stacked one on top of the other on the handle of her luggage. “I think I need a nap. Tor is flipping out about the pictures,”

“How did he find out? It's not a big deal though, Finn.”

“I know. It's just weird. Never imagined I'd be here.” Matt looked down at her, an eyebrow raised as if asking what she meant by here. Finn sighed, shaking her head as Johnny and Brooks pulled their bags off the belt. “I don't know either, Matt.”

He stayed quiet, still leaning on her head as Brian finally found his bag. With a start, Finn realized she was wearing his flannel and made as if to take it off to return it. Matt moved his hand to her shoulder, stopping the motion.

“Nah, keep it. You're never gonna get Haner to wear flannel, not even long enough for you to steal it.” Matt grinned and patted her on the head as he took his back, following Johnny and Brooks out toward where the car should have been waiting. The grey-haired woman stared after them until the tattooed guitarist scooped his arm around her shoulders, holding her to his chest as he walked after the rest of the band.

“Why do you always look so confused after you talk to Matt?” He asked, kissing the side of her head as they walked - a move he seemed to practice, he always executed the moving-forehead-kiss without falling over.

“It's like whenever he opens his mouth I'm completely shocked. Well. Whenever he talks to me when you aren't around.”

Brian smirked and held her close with his free arm, his thumb stroking her shoulder as if he wasn’t shocked.


	20. Chapter 20

They were staying in a boutique hotel in the heart of Paris in a suite of adjacent rooms, which lessened the sting of the hotel bar’s closure for renovation. The grey-haired guitarist listened to the guys work on logistics from where she lay across the bed in her room - she could barely see the guys as they milled around and chatted.

“Ok, but do we have enough alcohol if the bar’s closed?” Johnny asked, laying across the couch in the common room.

“Well. Probably not, no. That minibar is understocked and overpriced, so I’m thinking the answer is no.” Brooks called from the little kitchen, where he reappeared to sit on a stool in the living room.

“Matt and I have that phone interview in a few, maybe you guys can go on a liquor run in the meantime?” Brian appeared in the doorway of their room as he talked, glancing over at Finn where she lay, wrapped in the fluffy white comforter with her booted feet sticking out over the edge of the bed. She closed her eyes, digging into the soft comforter further. In the quiet, she heard the door click shut and a grunt as Brian took off, jumping on the little grey-haired guitarist in her cocoon.

“Ah, fuck! Bri!” Finn swore as his weight settled on her, his long arms wrapping around her chest. “What’re you doing?”

“Holding my girlfriend, something wrong with that?” He asked, beginning to burrow under the edges of her blanket and into her private cocoon. She raised an eyebrow at him - neither of them had used relational superlatives before - but quickly set to giggling as he kissed her neck, trailing under the low front of her tank top. “Are you going to stay here for the interview?”

“I think I’m going to take a nap, or write,” She commented, pulling his lips up to hers. “So don’t rile me up like that.”

“Mmm, but I have a surprise for you,” His lips were soft at her ear, his teeth gently scraping the edge of her earlobe with his teeth as he dug in his back pocket.

“What?” The black-haired man had nudged aside her lacy bralette, teasing a nipple as he threw a piece of paper at her. Finn moved a hand from his shoulder to snatch at the thrice folded paper, unwrapping it quickly. It seemed to be some sort of medical record. “What’s this, Haner?”

“A long time ago, we had a conversation about condoms. Semi-drunkenly.”

“Like most of our conversations, it wasn’t nearly as long ago as you think,” Finn quipped, and he shut her up with a finger on her lips as he sat up, staring down at her as realization dawned on her.

“Oh, fuck, you mean this is… ?”

“A clean bill of health, just for you.” Finn raised an eyebrow and grinned wickedly, touching her fingertips to his chin. What they had discussed - and what he alluded to - was that the pair would no longer have to use condoms when they made love, something she wouldn’t allow until she was sure he was clean, especially after he had said he didn’t always use them.

“Mm, the things I’m going to do to you…” Her murmur was dark as she pressed her lips to his cheek, letting her free hand wander down the front of his jeans.

“Ah, fuck Finn,” He pressed his hand to the back of her neck, holding her lips in place so he could sink his against them for a long, passionate moment. She felt the swell of him growing in her hand, his hand hard on her breast, their efforts growing more passionate until -

“Haner! Get the fuck out here!”

“Fucking fuck!” The black-haired guitarist practically leapt off her lithe body to pace around the room, adjusting himself in his pants as she reached to right her tank top. At the last minute, she decided to leave herself exposed and propped herself up on her elbows, watching him pace and swear. He glanced over at the grey-haired guitarist and sighed, leaning over the side of the bed to kiss her cheek and pull the blanket over her chest sweetly, his lips by her ear.

“Tonight I’m going to fuck you so hard we’ll have to carry you onstage,” His growl was not sweet, and he dodged her hungry hands with a wry grin - that lopsided smile she wanted to knock off his face and then kiss - to walk out to where his bandmate waited for their interview.

Finn swore at him internally, lying flat on her back in a bed in Paris. Waiting for her rock star boyfriend to finish an interview with his rock star coworker so he could come back and fuck her within an inch of her life. So much for that nap. With a protracted sigh, she reached for her cell phone, and texted Johnny.

‘Grapefruit vodka and sprite for me please?’

Then, she extracted herself from her blankets to find her notebook where it was hidden in the acoustic guitar case she had taken to lugging around with her. She set to working on writing.

Finn used a notebook lined with musc staff to write so she could tag down melodies - often drawing in specific notes before she knew what the timing was going to be. Her favorite time signature was 7/8ths, and she often used it in her music. What she ended up finding - using her sense of frustrated euphoria - was a mixed signature melody with a very heavy bass riff for Max. Tor always wrote the vocal melody off what his sister wrote for the guitars, and Jay was extremely handy with his drum riffs.

Finn always wrote the theme for her writing - the feelings she was pulling from, where she was at emotionally - at the top of the page in paragraph form. Currently, the album she was writing was taking shape as an emotional one - about anxiety and not feeling like she deserved what she had. About earning it. But usually, when her twin listened to the music she created, he was able to take it in a different direction lyrically, to be less obnoxiously emotional and have some sort of direction.

She was just making some headway when the door burst open.

“If I hear that note flat one more time, I swear Finn,” Even though he was grinning, her favorite guitarist sounded like he was actually angry about her playing, which would have been a first.

“Ah, Haner, you know I have perfect pitch. It's not fucking flat.”

“Ok, you need to change it then because it was legit distracting through the whole interview.” Now Matt was on her case, glaring at her from the doorway as Brian crouched next to her to read her notes. Finn tried and failed to snatch them away from him, almost falling on the guitar as he pulled that away too.

“That was done quick,” She murmured ruefully, watching as the pair pondered over her music on the bedroom floor.

“It was just as long as it had to be,” Haner murmured, pondering over her time signature as Matt rubbed his beard and added: “It was only supposed to be half an hour.”

“Ok, fine. And where are Brooks and Johnny?”

“Probably buying liquor. That's what they said they'd do.” God they were in a fucking quippy mood, Finn mused as Brian tore down her melody. She reached down to press one of the strings with her finger to keep the “offensive” flat, and found herself in Matt’s lap, feeling slightly shocked and very restrained.

“If you don't let him do it this is going to find its way into one of our songs.” Resigned, Finn twiddled her thumbs as Brian finished and passed her the guitar. She squinted at the distant melody before she played through the line he had edited - he had pulled her notes down a few lines for rearranging purposes, even written ‘no royalties’ and signed his name like an idiot.

“Huh. Very nice Bri, I like it,”

“And I am going to take a cold shower and call my wife,” Matt practically shoved her off his lap - she had forgotten where she perched as she played through the stanza - and stood, wiping his palms on the front of his pants. “If you kids need anything, we’ll be right here. Right on the other side of this thin, not super soundproof door. This one that I'm closing but not locking behind me.”

Brian rolled his eyes and got to his feet to lock the door behind Matt just as Finn sat cross-legged to examine what, exactly, he had done to her song.

“I would never have thought to do that…”

“With the open notes? It's going to sound really Synyster Gates, you might not want to keep it.”

“We'll see if I keep any of it,” She murmured with a wink as he bent to take the guitar from her hands and kiss her upturned lips. The lithe guitarist let him take the instrument from her hands to set down in the case and uncoiled to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

Wordlessly, Brian flipped her onto the bed, catching himself on his elbows so he didn't crash into her body. Still, she gasped at the suddenness of the motion, her hands flying to grasp his shoulders. He sunk his lips against hers as he held her body to his with one arm, pulling at her pants with the other. Finn let him pull her shorts down, his lips brushing down her skin, down the scars on her hip bones. Gently, he pulled her leg up under his lips, pressing his cheek against her calf as before he set her knee over his shoulder. His hands moved between them as he pulled off his pants - she tried to grab a handful of him but he pushed her hand aside.

The black-haired guitarist grinned down at her, pushing her other thigh aside slowly as he rubbed himself against her. Finn bit back a moan, keeping the thin walls Matt had mentioned in the back of her mind as she reached for his face, pulling his lips back to hers. He kissed her cheek instead, grinning against her cheek, his lips finding the corner of her jaw where his teeth nibbled.

“Want me that bad, huh sweet?” He asked, and she could feel that shit-eating grin spread across her cheek. In response, she bucked her hips firmly into his and ran her hands down his back to grab his ass. Finally, as she encouraged him, he pushed into her slowly, kissing her cheek with his hands at her waist.

Findlay couldn’t stifle the moan this time, not as he pulled her hips to his roughly and his lips sought hers. Fuck, he was good. The connection between them always stunned her, and she couldn’t tell if it was due to the intersection of their bodies or how much she truly did enjoy him as a person. Maybe it was a bit of both.

“Fuck, Bri,” Her murmur was quiet as he sunk his lips down onto hers deeply, holding her body to his with a hand on the back of her neck. He sucked in a breath hard through his teeth as he came into her, though he continued to thrust with long, sure strokes. Finn could hardly feel her toes as they curled, every inch of her focused on his body inside of hers, his skin on hers. She swore quietly and tried to remember not to claw at his back with her nails, but probably had already left long scratches down his skin anyway.

As it were, she dug her fingers into his hair as she found her finish, tangling her fingers in his coarse locks to hold their lips together as she shuddered.

“Fuck, I love you, Findlay,” She kissed his smile gently, stroking his hair as he held her close.

“Mmm, once more, Brian. With feeling,” She smiled, chewing gently on his lips. He must not have known what she meant, and slowly began to move inside her again. Finn threw her head back against the sheets as he murmured ‘I love yous’ into her neck, covering his bases by making sure to do everything once more, with feeling.


	21. Chapter 21

Apparently, someone had finally learned to wolf’s whistle in Jay’s absence. Finn discovered this as she stepped gingerly out of the bedroom behind Brian, bruised from their endeavors. He hadn't lied about the potential need to be carried.

At least she had managed to pull herself halfway together - into a red skull tank top and leggings with Matt's flannel thrown over it so she looked as disheveled as possible. Haner had thrown on the same shit, and the same shit-eating grin he had used to get her into bed in the first place.

“What brings you two out of your little dungeon there?”

“Fuck you, Brooks, I doubt you heard a peep!” The lithe guitarist pulled her cigarettes from the front pocket of the flannel, selecting one with care.

“Not from you…”

Finn blushed scarlet as she let herself out onto the balcony, dodging the verbal dogfight that ensued as Brian rounded on his bandmate. She leaned against the stone, staring across the lights of Paris as she flipped her phone in her fingers. After a moment, she snapped a picture for her long-neglected Instagram, and was flipping through the filters when Brian burst onto the balcony, shaking his head.

“You know, it’s not that big of a deal,” Finn commented dryly, before she realized he was grinning at her. “Oh, fuck you Brian,”

“Again, so soon?”

Scrunching her nose, she took a breath of her cigarette and decided the best filter for the twinkling lights below their dark balcony was no filter at all. She captioned it ‘What is my life? #Paris #theStage,’ and considered for a moment before she hit post. As she slipped her phone in her back pocket, the taller guitarist wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his chin on her head.

“For the record, I still ask myself that question.” He murmured above her, the smoke from his cigarette drifting over the edge of the balcony. Finn twisted to look up at her lover, her eyebrows raised. “I do. I read the thing on top of your music - that feeling that you’ve earned what you’ve got but you don’t deserve it? Still happens.”

“But you’ve been at this for, like, twenty years.”

“Oh, rub it in.” He rubbed his hand through her hair, tucking the grey strands behind her shoulder so he could kiss the space between her ear and her hairline.

“If I’m honest, part of it is you.” She felt his lips purse as he snorted, straightening to take a drag of his cigarette. “They say never meet your heroes. But you turned out to be a lot more than I bargained for.” The tattooed man leaned on the railing next to her, staring out over the city with his hands dangling over the edge, the cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Not something you expect to hear from your girlfriend, to be honest.” He looked over at her, speaking through the filter of his smoke. “But if we're being honest, you're much more famous than you think you are. Or will admit you are. It's true, Finby, don't give me that look.”

She frowned, rotating the filter of her cigarette slowly between her fingers, her smoky eyes fixed on the tall guitarist. “But you didn't grow up listening to my music.”

“Low blow. I don't have as many covers as you, especially not solo - and that's a fucking fact, don't dispute. I read it somewhere.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah AP or some shit did a piece on the tour and how they were surprised the Heathens weren't coming all the way through Europe with us. I wondered the same thing, honestly.”

“I'm supposed to be home, writing a new album, getting ready for summer festivals. I'm just lucky the guys released me to help.”

“I'd say we're lucky but agree to disagree.” Brian reached to twine his calloused fingers through hers. “I'm happy you're here. I wish we did have you on the whole tour.”

“Fuck, don't talk about the future, Brian, I don't like to think about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because what kind of future is there for us? You fucking leave for California. I go back to Boston. Then what?”

“Well, god gave us the telephone and the airplane, and luckily you have a boyfriend with a lot of disposable income.”

“Man, your optimism kills me,”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Finn blanched for a moment, searching for the right thing to say.

“I'm sorry, I didn't think before I spoke.”

“Because you are totally known for that,” Brian quipped dryly, exhaling smoke with a sigh. “Why is your instinct always to backpedal with me, Finn? Do you think I can't deal with a little criticism? For fuck’s sake, I'm a thirty-five year-old musician. I wouldn't have gotten where I was without taking a little advice,”

Finn refused to meet his tawny gaze, staring down at her hands.

“Finby,” The ‘boro’ of his fingers wrapped around her hand, snaking between her palms. “Finn. I promise I'm not a flight risk.”

She looked up at him with an eyebrow quirked, wondering how he had read what she was thinking so easily.

“I'm a vampire, I read minds.” The other eyebrow joined the first and Finn blinked flatly at her lover, who chuckled. “It wasn't that hard, Finn. You were literally just talking about where to go from here.”

“I guess you're right.”

“You're not getting rid of me that easily.” His lips fell on her forehead. “Let's go get a drink,”

Finn flicked her cigarette over the edge and walked inside behind Brian, letting him pull her into the hotel room.

“Aw, fuck, you two, didn't expect you to finish your heart to heart so soon!”

“Shut the fuck up, Matt!” Finn shook a treble clef-tattooed finger at the bearded singer as she moved into the kitchen, searching for her vodka and sprite, which Johnny helpfully provided.

“Is that any good?”

“No, Johnny, it's shitty and I hate it,” The tattooed guitarist grinned at the blonde-haired bassist, reaching to ruffle his hair before she grabbed her sprite to add to the vodka she had poured. “Haner! Want one?”

The poufy-haired man gave her a thumbs up before he disappeared into their bedroom, and she began to pour another pair of drinks, expecting Johnny to take one. Brian reappeared with a pair of acoustics and her notebook, amid a groan from his bandmates.

“Man, Haner, do you know how fucking annoying it would be if I brought fucking bongos everywhere?”

“Much more annoying, because you don't play with a hot chick.”

Finn took one of the acoustics from Brian - not one of her guitars, she hadn't brought a single acoustic on tour with her - and nudged one of the drinks toward him in exchange. The grey-haired woman settled on the floor next to Matt’s feet, the guitar in her lap and drink between her outstretched legs.

Brian was already plucking a solo out, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, something soft and vaguely jazzy as was his style. She played along, providing a gentle strumming answer to his riff. Their styles had a tendency to mesh well when they jammed - he trended toward the virtuoso, she could fall to a quiet background, working at something just as technical yet subtle.

She let her hand flow over the neck of the guitar, ignoring the guy’s conversation as she played. Well, not ignored. Just tuned them out as he transitioned into Fermi Paradox, one of her favorite Avenged songs to play. Somehow she found herself playing his usual solo at the beginning of the song, her eyebrows raised as she stared at the tawny-eyes guitarist, finally letting her eyes slip shut as she worked through the complicated sequence - made even more difficult by the fact that she played on an acoustic.

“You know, they were asking after you in the interview, Finn,” Matt said. Finn almost missed a note, but persevered.

“How so?”

“How we found you, where you came from, your relationship status with certain band members,” Findlay sighed, her strumming slowing as she considered what to play next. “They really grilled Brian about it.”

“What did you say?” She asked the black-haired guitarist, finding the chords for High Road by Mastodon - one of her favorite songs to play.

“I told them we’re getting married tomorrow,” Brian quipped dryly, strumming along with her. “I no commented on relationship status but we made sure they knew about the Heathens.”

Finn smiled and shook her head at the pair, strumming mechanically as she hummed the melody.


	22. Chapter 22

The guitarist held her long hair out of the way as Zacky’s tech, Mike, strapped her mix to her guitar, depositing the box in the back pocket of her dark jeans. It was time for her first show with Avenged, and even though she played the same crowds - alone, no less, without the backup of another guitarist - she couldn’t quiet the butterflies flapping around in her stomach. Across the stage from where she stood with Johnny and Brooks, she could see Haner and Matt, the former discussing something intently with his tech and the latter standing with his arms crossed menacingly over his chest, staring across the stage at her.

Findlay lifted her fingers into an “I’m watching you” sign, pointing at the burly singer as the guitarist waved happily behind him with both hands, annoying his tech as he tried to plug in his mix. Brian’s tech, Dan, was visibly swearing at the man, trying to get him to stop moving as Findlay blew him a kiss and turned away.

Johnny shoved his phone in her face, showing her a text from Zacky.

“Tell her to have a good time,” She read, mumbling the words though the guys would never be able to hear her through the crowd. The Stage was such an intimidating tour - there was a lot more going on onstage than what Finn was used to, and even though she had watched it a million times and played every song in soundchecks, she was still worried she would fuck up somehow.

She texted back her thanks just as Zacky demanded a selfie, as if from halfway around the world, the man knew she would be nervous. The trio assembled, the drummer taking the phone in hand to take the photo - he with the longest arms snapped the photo.

Johnny’s tech pointed over the trio’s head toward the other side of stage, where Brian and Matt stood ready to start the show. As the lights dimmed, Findlay took one last glance at the setlist she had memorized ages ago. They were starting with a version of Rocket Man, easy enough for the youngest guitarist on stage to play, even when it was augmented Avenged-style.

She adopted her usual saunter as the guys stormed the stage - her style was much more relaxed than the frantic energy that was Avenged at the beginning of their set. As Findlay took her spot on Zacky’s wing, she glanced over to see what her lover had to say to reassure her, and found the man strumming with his eyes closed, swaying with the music.

Left to work on her game face and quash her anxiety solo, Findlay put on her brightest smile and tried to remember to interact with the crowd. It wasn't like it was that different than playing with the Heathens, after all. If she focused on having fun she hardly noticed the glares from what must have been Zacky fans in the crowd.

After the opening song, Matt introduced her, assuaging the confusion that seemed to plague the crowd. Finn brushed her hand through her hair and waved, smiling brightly.

“You might have known, but Zacky’s on maternity leave pending the birth of his kid. We couldn't cancel half the tour, so tonight we give you Findlay!”

“You know, if you hadn't said anything they might not have noticed,” Brian quipped, taking what Finn guessed was a shot at Zacky’s height. Or playing. Honestly, when he was Syn on stage she never really could tell what he might be thinking of. She hadn't figured out the Synyster Gates algorithm of arrogance and sarcasm yet.

“Guys, shut up, remember she does that beer goddess thing?” Johnny piped in, looking poignantly at Finn, who gave a little start and pulled a case from behind one of her amps. She gestured pointedly at Johnny, asking if he wanted one as she cracked the top of a can. that part they had scripted to make sure Finn didn't have to stand there awkwardly post-introduction. Matt had put his mic in his back pocket and held his hands open as if waiting for a baseball.

Finn judged the distance and exchanged her can for a fresh one before she rocketed her arm back and chucked the can at the singer like a football. Clearly expecting an underhand toss, he barely caught it as Brian berated him.

“Perfect spiral! What a toss, Finn. Matt… keep your day job. No no, Findlay, don't throw that at the moneymaker. I'll come get one.”

Matt returned to his mic as Brian crossed the stage. Johnny took a pair of beers from the lithe guitarist, tossing one up to Brooks in the drum kit.

Her lover's fingers brushed hers as he took the beer from her, giving them a reassuring squeeze around the can. They didn't want to engage in too much PDA - the crowd came to see a show, and not the Bri and Finn show - but she appreciated the thought and gentle nod to her anxious state. He stood with an arm thrown over her shoulder as he downed his beer, handing her back an empty can which she considered throwing at his retreating back.

She thought better of it and quickly set the can down as the black-haired guitarist began to strum the opening chords of the Stage pointedly.

The next five songs were more of an exercise in patience and practice for her stage pantomime. Thanks to the extensive practice with Brian, she was well prepared to play Avenged’s songs. The only thing she was having trouble with was their stage personas. The Heathens hadn’t wanted to get mixed up with stage names and the like, and as a result Findlay was not very practiced with the weird mixed messages she was getting from all of the guys - sans Brooks, who preferred to keep mute much like she did.

She wasn’t offended until Brian, working through a virtuoso solo as she connected with the crowd on one of the so-called “elephant stands,” jumped up beside her and almost forced her off the thing. Planted feet and a glare saved her, but after a few more bars she jumped off in disgust, stalking across the stage to “jam” with Johnny.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked just loud enough to be heard over her mix and the ambient sounds of their instruments, which they tended to keep decently quiet. Avenged seemed to be mindful of their collective hearing and didn’t use many backward facing amps. That being said, it was still loud enough that the pair had to practically shout.

“I don’t date Syn, I date Brian,” She concluded with a shrug as they wrapped up the song, her left hand mechanically chugging out rhythms in time with Brian’s solo in her ear. As they wrapped up, Johnny clapped her on the back.

“He’s a monster.”

Finn stayed away from the other guitarist, choosing to mind her own business and try to have a bit of fun with the crowd rather than get frustrated with him, until a sharp nod at the beginning of God Damn brought her back to the front of the stage.

The lithe guitarist hopped nimbly up on the elephant stand beside her lover - or rather, her lover’s alter ego - fingers flying to keep up with his during the intricate opening of God Damn. There was never really a point in the song where she got to slow down and chug along, which made it difficult to walk across stage, so she stayed put - only taking a few steps off the elephant stand the whole song to allow Matt his moment in the spotlight and to diffuse her ego when Brian began to walk with his solos.

Suppressing a sigh with a stage smile, Finn clambered back up on the stand with Brian for the last few notes of the song. The smaller guitarist pumped her fist in the air, genuinely glad to have made it through without fucking up anywhere in the middle, which was always a danger with God Damn. As the bouffant-haired man turned to hop off the stand, he brushed a hand over Finn’s shoulder with a murmured “I love you” she could barely hear over the crowd.

Somehow, the venue photographer caught the moment where the guitarists locked eyes, Finn beaming with a huge smile and Brian smiling wryly, his heavily-lidded eyes bright.


	23. Chapter 23

“You know, you two have to consider. At what point are you just frustrating the fans by not talking about this?” Brooks gestured with a french fry, stabbing it first at his phone at the all-too-telling picture, then at Finn and Brian, who sat on opposite sides of the booth. Matt had been adamant they sit apart for once so he could sit with his “man,” obviously thinking it would annoy the par of them. In reality, it just gave them the opportunity to play footsie. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Findlay knew they were ridiculous, but she couldn’t help fawning over the man when she knew their time was most certainly going to be short.

“I mean, it’s not like we’re denying it. We’re just… keeping our personal lives personal. Why does that drive people up a wall?” Brian leaned in to take a chomp out of Brooks’ fry as Findlay spoke, gaining a slap upside the head for his troubles.

“Yeah, when have you all ever talked about your wives? Did you give formal marriage announcements to the press? Don’t think so.”

“Yeah but I do talk about her to the press and you both ‘no comment’ every time someone asks.” Johnny nodded in agreement with the bearded singer as he spoke. Findlay sighed and leaned her head back in the booth, fingers clasped in her lap.

“If we don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to,” Brian’s tone was tense and Finn could hear him spinning his glass on the table in his annoyance.

“Yeah but you can’t get upset every time the question gets asked or a picture gets posted. It’s not like you’re even trying to hide it at all!”

“Does that tick you off, Matthew?” Oh, shit. Finn’s head popped up off the back of the booth, eyes wide at the dangerous tone of the guitarist’s voice and found him staring at Matt. His hooded eyes were unusually dark, his face angry rather than flat. She hadn’t seen the man look quite so angry before.

After a few tense moments, Findlay called the black-haired guitarists name softly, drawing his attention away from the singer as she stood, a pack of cigarettes in hand.

“You know, you shouldn’t get so mad at Matt. He’s just thinking of the fans,” Finn murmured, passing him a cigarette just to the side of the hotel entrance.

“If I wanted his advice I’d ask.”

“Easy there, tiger.” The grey-haired guitarist reached out to stroke his forearm, teasing his hand into hers with her fingertips. “It’s really not that bad. I shouldn’t get to bent out of shape over something like this. Matt’s right - we’re not hiding anything.”

Brian squeezed her fingers in his, looking down at their twined digits for a moment before he leaned his head back, exhaling into the sky, his tawny eyes closed.

“I don’t get it. Why do people care so much? People didn’t even care this much when I got di… fuck.”

“Come again?” Findlay could have sworn he was about to say he had previously been married, but that couldn’t be true. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned it?

“Well, that cat’s out of the bag. Shit.” Brian took another deep drag of his cigarette before he pulled his head upright, staring at the stormy-eyed guitarist, his face unreadable. “I was married, once. Guess I should have mentioned that earlier,”

Findlay looked up at the man, brows knit as she tried to work through the information. Her instinct was to be offended that he hadn’t informed her, but then again, she hadn’t even been sleeping with him for a month, technically. Tentatively, she reached her lips up to kiss the corner of his mouth, pulling him to her by their connected hands.

“Thanks for the info, I guess?” She conceded, her murmur light on his cheek. His smile spread slowly under her lips, his stubbly cheek brushing against her mouth.

“I should have figured you’d surprise me again,” He replied, holding her hand close. “You always fucking do.”

“What? Am I supposed to be upset?” Finn asked, leaning her cheek against his chest so she could take a breath of her cigarette. “Should I be?”

“Nah,” His answer was quicker than she would have liked as he nuzzled his face into her gray curls. “I never want you to be upset.”

“You’re such a sap, babe,” She muttered, staring down at their connected hands. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they had fallen for each other unusually hard, and voiced that to the guitarist. She could feel his frown against her scalp.

“Shocked. Again.” He took a deep breath of his cigarette before he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her to his chest. She had to fling her arm wide to avoid singeing his shirt. “What? That’s you, Findlay. Throwing me through a loop again.”

Finn stayed silent against his skin, breathing in the smoky, Guinness-laden smell of him rather than providing him an answer to his rhetorical question because he still hadn’t answered hers.

“I guess I’m a little serial.”

“A night or forever?” Finn asked, reflexively, wishing she hadn’t almost immediately. She was relieved by his chuckle.

“Exactly.” His breath was warm against her cheek as he turned her face to his with his fingers. “But then there’s you,”

“Me?” Consistently, she wondered why the man who could have anyone would pick the short, angry, mangy guitarist from Boston over the models that threw themselves at him regularly. She didn’t voice the rest of her thought as she wrapped her cigarette-free arm around his waist, releasing their fingers to pull herself closer to the man.

“You. You’re a force of nature, sweet.” Findlay snickered against his nearly-bare chest under his v-neck, taking the last pull off her cigarette before she dropped it to quash out under the toe of her Doc. “You don’t believe me.”

“Nope. It makes literally no sense to me.” She mused quietly, letting her newly-freed fingers tuck into the pocket of his jeans.

“Do you need to psychoanalyze me, or can you just accept that I want you?” Her silence answered his question, and his chest rose and fell under her cheek in a deep sigh. “I’m not sure I can answer this question now, baby. It’s not simple.”

“Try to Reader’s Digest me?” She asked after a moment, her lips brushing against his ‘Forever’ tattoo. “I’m curious.”

“Why?” This time, her silence was stubborn as she let her free fingers trace up his side, under his shirt. “Woman, you’re going to kill me.”

“Is it because I’m a great lay?”

“Fuck, Finn, it’s way more than that. Jesus.” He tucked his fingers under her chin and turned his lips to his for a long, sweet kiss. “God you’re perfect.”

She couldn’t help herself as she let her fingertips dip under the waistband of his jeans as they kissed, toying with the hair under his boxers. The black-haired guitarist sucked in a deep breath as he pulled away from her fingers, tossing out his butt so he could push against her shoulder.

“We’ve gotta go back inside, little thing, don’t you do this to me,” Findlay grinned up at him wickedly, pulling his body to hers just outside of the lights of the hotel entrance.

“What, you don’t want me?” She said, insolent with her desire.

“Outside?”

“Clean bill of health,” She cited, smirking up at the dark-eyed man. He smirked that trademark grin that she always wanted to slap off his face, and sunk his lips onto hers, his hands drawing her up to his lips by her ass and the small of her back. As he lifted her off the ground she wrapped her legs around his waist, trusting him to bear her to a nice, dark alcove she had spotted earlier.

Predictably, he slammed her back into the hard stone of the alleyway, fidgeting with the buttons of her pants with her body pinned between his and the wall. She pulled down his zipper tantalizingly between their bodies, gripping him through the opening of his jeans with her other arm around his shoulders.

“This is such a bad idea,” He murmured, his breath hot against her cheek where he kissed it, sending little thrills up her skin.

“Isn’t it?” She grinned against his shoulder as he pulled her pants over her ass, shifting her legs up his torso to align their bodies. The grey-haired guitarist guided him into her, reveling in the feeling of him as he thrust her back into the rough stones of the bar next door to the hotel. He murmured something against her cheek as he pushed into her none-too-gently, but she didn’t catch him as she tried to stifle a moan. Fuck, he was talented, always finding that tiny spot that made her incoherently euphoric. Maybe he was just perfectly-shaped.

She let her thoughts slip away to focus on him inside of her - the cold and rough stones a perfect juxtaposition against his position in her.

“Fuck, Brian,” His lips stifled both of their moans, and all she could hear was the quiet thrusts against her as they kissed passionately, sloppy tongues grazing each other’s teeth. Fuck, her lipstick was going to be everywhere.

“Finn, I’m gonna -” She cut him off with her mouth as she met her finish against his warning, forcing every ounce of her consciousness to keep from stopping her ride as he thrust into her one last time, grunting as quietly as either of them could manage. Fuck, she was an idiot. In public? Right after all the consternation of their last picture?

Her mental beration of her idea slipped away as his lips met her earlobe.

“I love you, Findlay,”

Good god, as long as he kept whispering sweet nothings into her ear with that lusty voice, she would do anything for the man. She swore quietly as he let himself slip out of her - knowing full well he could go for another round if he wanted to risk discovery in their alley - as they righted their pants.


	24. Chapter 24

The pair smoked another cigarette before they went back inside to the raucous shouts of his bandmates. At least they had time to wipe off the lipstick

“Guess she showed you, Brian?” Matt’s voice was heavy with drink as he held his beer up in a toast. Findlay ordered another pair of drinks as Brian sneered at his bandmates.

“Shut the fuck up, assholes.” He flipped them off with one hand while accepting a freshie from Finn - the bartender had prepared a new pair of whiskey and coke zeroes (Finn’s choice) as they walked across the hotel lobby.

“He can’t help it, he’s just jealous,” A familiar, if tinny, voice shouted from Johnny’s side of the table.

“Is that Zachary, on speaker phone?” Brian asked, just as Findlay shouted at the other guitarist shouted at the man to fuck off and be with his wife.

“Where have you guys been, I called twenty minutes ago to talk to you about your first show, Finn!”

“Not my first show!” Finn combatted, sliding into the booth next to Johnny and his phone, where Zacky’s face was prominently displayed on facetime.

“Sup tiny! Having your way with an old man?”

“Shut the fuck up, Zacky,” Findlay waved a hand at him in greeting but also to shrug off his lewd comment. She could hear Matt giving Brian an earful about their tryst - which had so obviously been outside - as she grinned at the guitarist she was acting a surrogate to. “How’s Meaghan?”

“Lady and baby are fine, at least one of them is asleep,” He turned the camera down to show a cooing baby in his arms. The silver-haired guitarist tried to act like she cared about the wretched-looking creature.

“So cute,”

“Findlay, I know you. You could give two shits about my kid,”

“You know me too well.” She grinned, taking a huge gulp of her drink to hide her embarrassment. She didn’t know why, but her inability to produce heirs was almost incapacitatingly embarrassing to the grey-haired guitarist. “The show was great!”

“I hear you even got laid,”

“Oh fuck off, Zacky. You’re just jealous.”

“Yeah, I can’t fuck my wife until she recovers.”

“And even then, it’s sketchy,” Johnny quipped, kissing Finn’s cheek with a grin. Just as he did, there was a commotion from by the bar. Findlay turned just in time for Johnny to start to jump over her, dropping his phone into her lap as he swore profusely.

Brooks tried to push the guitarist and the singer apart, but it was an impossible job for one man. Johnny set on Brian immediately, pulling him away from Matt with his arms around the other guitarist’s chest. The men spat profanities at one another, but their fists fell to their sides as they were pulled apart. Brian looked angrier than she had ever seen, his face a thundercloud. Matt's was similar, but she had at least seen him get upset before. Brain did not easily give in to fits of passion.

As the bassist and drummer each started to walk in opposite directions, Brooks guiding Matt toward the elevator and Johnny taking Brian toward the door, presumably for a cigarette. Finn was about to get up to follow when a tinny voice in her lap called to her.

“Finn? What the hell just happened?” With a start, she realized Zacky was still on the line in her lap and she grabbed the phone.

“Zacky! Holy shit. Do Brian and Matt usually fight?”

“They were fighting?” Finn nodded as she took a gulp of her drink. “Like, actually fist fighting?”

“Yeah, I think Brooks managed to get in there before they did any damage. But, what the actual fuck?” Findlay had decided to exist as a Boy Scout - to stay put until someone came for her. It seemed more logical than rushing off after either party. She expressed this to Zacky, who nodded in agreement.

“Those two never fight, Finn. So when they do it's usually a blow up like this. We're used to it.”

“What were they fighting over?” She mused, leaning back into the booth to stretch her feet out comfortably.

“You. Probably you.” Zacky said with a dry laugh, bouncing his child in his arms. Finn scowled darkly.

“I thought he was starting to warm up to me.”

“Matt's a slow burn kinda guy. He and Val have been together for almost two decades now.”

“What does that have to do with Brian and me?” She asked, her voice haughty.

“He doesn’t understand how either of you could fall so hard. And he’s worried about the fans.”

“Him and Toric both. Why do you all think this is going to alienate the fans? Who cares if either of us are actually single or not?” Finn sighed, reaching for the water glass on the table. “I’m sorry, Zacky, you should go be with your kid.”

“It’s fine, Finn. Meaghan’s asleep and he doesn’t talk yet.” Zacky had propped the phone up on something so he could use both his hands on his kid. “Matt worries because Brian’s fans are usually pretty rabid for him. They want their fantasy… untarnished? I don’t know if it’s justified or not, but that’s where Matt’s coming from.”

“Seems a bit much. Not really fair.”

“Didn’t say I agreed. We’ve been touring together for ages though, Finn. Sometimes shit bubbles up and it doesn’t always make sense when it does.”

“Yeah, I know. Toric and I are the worst offenders.”

“And do your fights always make sense?”

“No, dad, they don’t,” Finn quipped with a grimace, rolling her eyes at the guitarist. She could see Johnny walking into the hotel lobby, probably looking for his phone. “Here’s Johnny,”

“You still on with Zack, Finn?” The guitarist murmured a greeting from California as the grey-haired guitarist passed off the phone to the bassist.

“How is he?” Finn asked, as mohawk-wearing bassist slid into the booth beside her, asking for two drinks from the waitress.

“I’d give him a bit, he’s still angry. I sent him on a walk.”

“So much drama,” Findlay murmured into her drink, toying with the straw in her finger tips.

“You just need to get the prank war going again. Let off some steam.” Zacky suggested from Johnny’s hand. The bassist propped the phone against a water glass to show the pair’s faces to the guitarist halfway around the world. “Start small.”

“Lobster in someone’s bath tub?”

“Logistical nightmare and animal rights violation, Finn.” Johnny joked, poking the grey-haired guitarist in the shoulder. “I did it to Matt once.”

“Jimmy was the king of pranks,” Zacky reminisced, bouncing the gurgling baby. Findlay tuned in, eager to hear a rare tale of the dearly departed drummer who really had been the life of the party. She knew the boys missed him dearly - they all had tattoos in his honor, for one - but didn’t talk about him much. The tidbits she had picked up were rare and special. “Just the little shit at the exact right moment to make someone feel better. He sent Matt a fuckton of positive pregnancy tests in the mail when we were on tour, Val almost broke up with him for that.”

“He put blue food dye in a tube of lube in the back of the bus. That was a fucking mess.”

Findlay lifted an eyebrow at the pair, waiting for more details. “Which one of you got the short end of that stick?”

“Actually, Jimmy. He forgot about it. And he didn’t tell anyone until Brian got hit with it and  
Then there was a huge blue crotch reveal…”

“Should have known,” Finn shook her head ruefully, chuckling at the thought of her lover afflicted by the dye from the lube. “He does seem to be a little blue, I just thought he was part smurf,”

“It was pretty awful. I think they struggled with getting it off.” Johnny tapped a finger to his lips thoughtfully, as if trying to remember the drug- and booze-fueled day. Even though the 27-year old could hardly keep up with their shenanigans, apparently they were even worse when they were her age.

“I’m surprised that doesn’t bother you, Finn. Seriously, Lacey gets ticked if anyone brings up… the past.”

“Why should I care?” She asked, looking at the guitarist and bassist quizzically, truly confused as to why she was expected to care.

“God I picked a good one, didn’t I?” The trio - including the guitarist on the phone - turned to look up at the black-haired guitarist as he slipped around the booth to tuck himself under Finn’s arm on the top of the seatrest. “You guys talking about me?”

“Only if you’re feeling less rage-y,” Johnny said as Brian waved at his counterpart on the small cell phone screen.

“Vaguely. Where’s Brooks?” He twined his fingers through Finn’s where they dangled over his shoulder - he had to slouch to fit under her arm.

“I’d text him but we’d lose Zacky.” The bassist shrugged, rubbing the back of Brian’s head with his free hand. Brian’s dark mohawk was starting to grow out, and he looked more than a little scruffy with the grown-out sides. He had obviously been running his hands through it, probably from stress.

“No, it’s cool, I think I gotta try and get some sleep,” Zacky had set down his child, rubbing his hands through his hair, looking as tired as he sounded.

“For me, too. Sorry, kids.”Johnny’s hand was heavy on Findlay’s shoulder as he pulled himself out of the booth, taking Zacky with him as the guitarists called their goodbyes to one another.

“Do you want to go to bed, sweet?” Brian asked the grey-haired guitarist, kissing her temple gently as she gripped his fingers.

“Are you ok?” She asked, nuzzling into the side of his face, her lips soft against his cheek. “What happened?”

“Matt made a comment,”

“I mean, I realize that, babe,”

“Once again, about being ‘out’ publicly. I don’t want to tell you the exact statement,”

“I’m guessing the word whore might have been there?” Brian shook his head slowly, neither confirming nor denying her question. Findlay sighed. “Fine. Why does he hate me?”

“I… Don’t know, Finn,” Brian murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I don't think he hates you.”

“I’m just exhausted, Brian, can we go to bed?”

“Didn’t I just… Oh, ok woman. You win.”


	25. Chapter 25

The tour had started to turn into Groundhog’s Day. Finn would wake up with Brian, get dressed, ride to the next venue, go to soundcheck, play a show, get drunk, and go back to sleep. Even their days off had been spent traveling between venues. The grey-haired guitarist was at a loss as to how the tour with the Heathens - which had been far longer than the week she had been with Avenged - had been more exciting than the monotony she had started to experience.

Her chemistry with Brian was seemingly waning, at least in her eyes, as they grew more bored. Matt still wouldn’t warm up to her. Brooks and Johnny were fantastic, and trying to dispense the tension between the singer and the two guitarists, but they couldn’t accomplish anything when Matt and Brian were still so closely at odds.

Findlay sat in the green room - decorated in all black, it wasn’t very green, but green rooms never were. She fiddled with her phone, having texted Toric until he got busy with a hot blonde from the club down the street.

“You look... Pensive,” Brooks dropped into the seat beside the lithe guitarist, staring at her phone in her hands.

“Hoping tonight goes well,”

“Oh?” Brooks raised an eyebrow at the woman, an arm around her shoulders. “Spill it, O’Shaughnessy, what are you up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” She grinned wryly, glancing up at the drummer. “I am certainly not plotting anything.”

“As long as it’s not me, I’m fine. What are you planning?”

“I won’t tell you.”

His eyes narrowed as he pulled the smaller guitarist to his chest, tucking his fingers under her chin to lift her lips to his. She gripped his hips to hers by his belt, letting her tongue slip past his lips in a rare moment of passion before they were to get on stage. The guys were distracted - Matt performing his vocal warmups, Johnny and Brooks giving an interview in the far corner - and the black-haired guitarist pressed her into the wall far away from the potential prying eye of the camera, around the corner.

“Oh, fuck, Finn, I want you one more time before we go on,” His murmur was hot against her earlobe, his lips sweet on her skin.

“Fuck you, Brian, don’t ask me for that,” She managed to gasp with her nose buried in his hair.

“Mm, you sure babe? There’s a bathroom right over there,” Findlay moaned against lips quietly, twining her fingers through his to prevent him from going up her shirt right there - close to where the camera could potentially see them together.

“It has to be quick,” She hissed as the pair walked backward into the men’s room, where he pushed her up against the door, locking it behind them. “Haner,”

“Quick, Finn, I promise.” His mouth was heavy on hers, his hands under her shirt. Though she usually wanted him, the pre-show anxiety had set in, and she was truly unable to summon up an ounce of desire, her motions cold and distant. “Fucking hell, woman,”

“What if I just… didn’t want to, Bri?” It took every fiber of her being to disagree, but she needed to be able to walk onstage that night. She voiced that to her lover as he nipped at her ear.

“Oh, sweet,” His sigh was a little dramatic, but she got the point. She had never turned him down before - it must have been a shock. “Why do I feel like you're up to something?” The guitarist asked as they walked out of the bathroom hand-in-hand.

Finn shrugged innocently, pulling her guitar off the couch to sit with it, strumming absently to distract her. She really did have the worst poker face, and she knew it. Brian sunk into the couch next to her, looking wary as he settled into his pre-show ritual of testing solos. Ever since Zacky had mentioned the prank wars of yesteryear, she had been planning something, but it had taken two shows and two days off to plan, garner accomplices in the crew and acquire the materials after she had come up with the idea. It hadn't been hard to get a few crew members on board with the execution, especially since a lot of them ended up just hanging out during shows, but the anticipation was killing her.

All it was going to take was two GoPros, a boatload of balloons and talcum powder.

The show was killer - better than normal, for some reason. Brian was on his best behavior as Syn, nearly a gentleman for once.

Findlay followed at a distance, warily, as they left the stage, ridding themselves of their instruments before they proceeded to the green room. She grinned as they filed into the green room and closed the door amid angry shouts as hundreds of balloons swirled around her feet.

Deeper in the room, she found the crew had done a stellar job between songs, filling the green room about waist high with balloons. Some floated as if a half-assed attempt at helium had been brought in, and it was one of these that Matt popped first.

“Oh, what the fuck,” He tried to sound angry but was laughing too hard as a shower of baby powder coated him, gently dusting him to the waist. “Come on you guys, let us out!”

“Which one of you did this?” Johnny regarded the camera, held by their “social media guru” Raquel, who was having a hard time keeping it steady as she laughed.

“I know exactly who did it!” Thankfully, Brian was on the other side of the room from her as he pointed, or she probably would have been covered in baby powder too.

“Let me guess. The doors are locked and we have to pop all of these balloons before we can get out?” Finn nodded at the drummer, who pelted her with the harmless projectiles by scooping them into the air comically.

“Fuck, is there any furniture in here? What a god damn mess,” Johnny had produced a knife to start popping with, and Brian was using a guitar pick as he made his way toward the smaller guitarist.

She knew the look on his face, his grin mischievous if not downright diabolical, and took advantage of her inferior size to slip under the waist-high cacophony of balloons to crawl to the corner of the room. She would have gotten away with it, if she hadn't crawled too close to the bearded singer.

Matt scooped her up from between the balloons, managing to get her around the waist upside-down.

“Hey look, I caught me a Finn,”

“That one’s not full grown, toss her back,” Johnny called, just as Brian called for him to hold on to the squirming guitarist. She had figured this would happen, she mused as Brian jumped for one of the talcum powder-filled balloons. The black-haired man nearly fell, cursing as he managed to get his footing among the balloons.

There was a pop and a light dusting of baby powder fell over her back. As if to add insult to injury, one of the men popped a second balloon over her hair and rubbed it in, leaving her looking like she was wearing a powdered wig. She squirmed as she was passed to Brian's waiting arms, almost managing to break free before the four men set to coating her - and, by proximity, her lover - in baby powder.

Laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes, Finn managed to break loose, potentially only because Brian had let her go, and made her way to the door. She enveloped the first crew member she found in a hug and continued her powdery rampage until almost the entire backstage crew and a bunch of the roadies had received the gift of a white Findlay-print on their mostly black clothes.

“Man, girl, you got us pretty good there,” the rest of the band were laughing and trying to smack powder off their clothes as the small ghost returned to the green room, grinning as Brian tucked her under his arm.

“But you do know it's on, right Finn?” Matt made the “I'm watching you” sign with his fingers, an eyebrow raised behind his dusty sunglasses. “And you share a room with her!”

Brian's face fell flat as if he just realized he was about to become collateral damage.


	26. Chapter 26

After the “Night of the Balloons,” the group had a solid three days off - without travel! Findlay spent the first half of it laying in her hotel bed with Brian, nursing a wicked hangover and wondering why she even tried to keep up with the older men when they were out drinking.

“I'm almost afraid to leave the room,” Finn murmured at one point, luxuriating with the other guitarist in the crisp white sheets. “They could be anywhere, plotting anything.”

“They being Matt?” Brian asked, his chin resting atop his hands on her sternum where he laid, his toes dangling over the edge of the bed.

“Mainly.”

“He'd never do anything vicious, babe.” In the background, music from his phone played quietly, Trivium filled the room.

“That's what you say. He's not really fond of me,” She reached down to ruffle his hair, playing with the grown-out sides of his Mohawk. “You need a haircut,”

“You preferred the hawk?”

“Kinda more of a faux hawk, but yes. Showed off your little tattoo here,” She brushed her fingers over where she knew the roman numeral 5 was tattooed into his skin, pausing to rub his earlobe tantalizingly.

“Just because it's a small tattoo doesn't mean it's cute, Findlay,” He knew where her mind was, apparently. She giggled as he hosited himself to brush his lips against hers, settling with his much larger body in top of hers. “Well I don't want you to get bored of me in this room,”

“How could I ever get bored of you?” She murmured as an aside as the older man sunk his fingers into her hair. Every now and then it still smelled of baby powder.

“Easy. I'm old and boring. You're young and cute.” He pulled her lips up to his. “But I want to go get some food. Maybe shop?”

“Oh, fine. Where does a guy like you go shopping, anyway?”

“All kinds of places. Hot Topic and PacSun specifically,” He cited two chains of their youth jokingly, places she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be caught dead in. “And we’ve got a shoot this afternoon.”

He meant the guys. She wasn’t really included in those things. She had done a few skype interviews while she was touring with Avenged, but aside from gig photos nobody had wanted a picture of the grey-haired guitarist in a while. Absently, Finn wondered what she would do while the guys were at their shoot.

“What time is it, anyway?” Finn asked, reaching for her phone. She had a set of missed calls from the Heathen’s label publicist as well as a text - all before noon her time, which was incredibly before 6:00 AM their time. “What the fuck?”

Frowning down at the guitarist who still lounged on her lower half, Findlay dialed the publicist.

“This is Tory,”

“Tory, Findlay What’s going on?” She laid her head back on the pillow, her hand over her eyes as she relaxed under Brian’s kisses, listening to her publicist speak. She sounded a little tired, probably because the woman was up before the sun had even risen in Boston.

“I’ve been in touch with Revolver and they want to do a piece with you and Avenged,”

“Aren’t they doing a photoshoot with them… this afternoon?”

“That’s why I’m up this early, doll. Are you prepared to do an interview and a photoshoot?” Findlay looked up at Brian, her eyebrows raised as the man rained kisses on her stomach, pausing to toy with her belly button ring with his tongue. It was all Finn could do to keep herself from sighing lustfully.

“Mentally, or physically?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’m good. I had a wax and did my hair in Denmark so I even look almost presentable.” Now Brian was curious, raising an eyebrow at the lithe guitarist under his bare chest, resting his chin on his hands.

“Then all you need to do is dress nice and go there They might have clothes for the boys to wear but you should have all your own sponsored items, right?” Fame was very, very strange. There were brands - like Nasty Gal and Rockabilia - who paid her to wear their clothes in photoshoots and interviews.

“Shit, do I have to get fancy?”

“Base your clothes off whatever they’re wearing.” Brian was growing impatient, his fingers sneaking between her thighs, and she had to concentrate to make sure she didn’t moan into the phone as he found a sweet spot just inside with an insistent finger.”Other than that, just go to the shoot.”

Finn hung up, staring at her lover as he sunk his lips onto her bare clit, his breath warm against her.

“Brian,” She tried her hand at consternation as the guitarist pulled himself up to kiss her cheek softly, searching for her lips.

“You’re coming with us to the shoot then?” He asked, acting like he was good at multitasking as he sunk himself inside of her. Like she was any better.

The grey-haired guitarist surrendered under his touch, ignoring the question as she reveled under his touch, focusing all of her attention on the feeling of him. She still had her reservations about where the relationship was going to go after the tour ended - Finn figured straight to hell but Brian seemed a lot more optimistic about continuing.

He rested his lips at her throat as he drew her up, shifting so she sat in his lap. One of his favorite positions, she mused as she tilted her chin down to kiss him thoroughly, smothering his moan. He didn't stop as he met his finish, seeking hers with fervor as they kissed, her fingers scrabbling at his back.

“Ah, fuck Brian, I need to be able to walk today,” She groaned as she stood on shaky legs, only semi-joking.

“Oh, don't be a drama queen,” Brian murmured as he started the shower. She crawled into the small space after him, struggling to get at least some water to activate her soap. “Do you need to wash your hair? For the shoot?”

Findlay paused to consider. Due to fading, she usually never washed her mop, and therefore found it greasiest when she needed it cleanest. Like for a photo shoot.

“Probably. This has really killed our shopping time,” She laughed as she reached for her purple shampoo, ducking her hair under the faucet. In the couple of months she and Brian had been dating, she had probably only washed it three or four times - something he hadn't commented on, surprisingly. He looked at her quizzically as he climbed out of the shower, an eyebrow raised. “I have to do my hair for the shoot. I doubt I'll have a ‘team of stylists’ and what have you.”

“Well, I'm going to go make myself scarce the. You know how hair dryers make me feel,” He joked with a laugh, his voice muffled from the other side of the shower curtain. “I wonder how Zacky feels about this,”

“Blissfully unaware with his kid. Even if he were awake I doubt he'd care. We do what the publicists tell us.”

“You guys are so independent,” She commented dryly, with a roll of her eyes.

“Smart actually. It took us years to realize that we knew jack shit about publicity.” She glanced around the shower curtain with conditioned in her elbow-length locks, pointing at her razor on the counter. As he texted, the guitar god passed her the implement, and the smaller woman couldn't help but laugh about her absurd life.

“What's up, babe?” He didn't look up from the texts he was sending, just raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“Nothing, just in awe of my life. Again.”

“Well, whenever you’re done thinking on that, I think I’ll be downstairs with the guys. Need anything?”

“Can you have a sandwich for me when I get down there? Not sure I’ll have much time to eat with all of this,”

His answer was drowned out by the roar of water in her ears.


	27. Chapter 27

Over an hour later - hair styling time increased her usual routine from roughly twenty minutes to… well, almost two hours if she was being honest with herself - Findlay ran down the stairs in the hotel to join the boys, cursing the elevators. They had all been taken, she had found, and moved at a glacial pace as Brian was hinting that their car was already there to take them to the shoot.

Swearing up a storm, she flew into the lobby and out the double glass doors, searching for the boys. It wasn’t until she turned around, failing to find the men and worried they had left her behind, that she saw the quartet sitting at the bar, laughing at her.

“Oh, fuck you guys,” She breathed, flipping them off as she walked back into the hotel, trying not to stalk through the lobby.

At least it was comforting to know she hadn’t gone too casual for the shoot. Instead of trying to hard, she paired her usual red docs, torn-up black jeans and a blood red bralette with a strappy black cami top and a tough-girl leather jacket over a red flannel - one that actually fit her and not one of Matt’s or Toric’s. Just edgy enough to be special, but nothing she wouldn’t deign to wear onstage. The guys were in their usual mess of well-fit jeans, various t-shirts and the occasional jean jackets. They really didn't diverge from their norm fashion-wise, Finn had found.

Brian held out an arm for her to tuck herself under, glaring at the men.

“Really, you assholes,” She asked, reaching for someone’s water glass from the bar top to sock it back. It was still too soon for her to even consider alcohol. “Was that you trying to get me back?”

“Not a chance. Way too juvenile.” Johnny grinned, snatching the glass from her hands. “That was mine!”

“What’re you going to do, take it back?” Finn shot back with a laugh, checking her phone for the time. “Are we leaving eventually?”

“In a cigarette or two,” Brian answered, as the guys began to file out of the bar, leaving cash for the check. As she lit a cigarette, Finn’s stomach growled ominously, and she glanced up at the guitarist.

“Thanks for the sandwich, by the way,”

“Ah, fuck, I knew I had forgotten something,” He murmured, digging in the pocket of his jacket to pull out what looked like half a sub. The smaller guitarist raised an eyebrow, wondering how he had hidden it all in there. “Veggie, like you like. It had ham and salami and stuff too but I ate that for you,”

“Man, you’re just the truest gentleman,” It was hard to be angry at his sweet gesture, even if it was a little half-baked. She held the sandwich awkwardly as she smoked, watching the other three men mill around. Johnny lit a cigarette but Brooks and Matt tended to stay away from smoking unless they were really, really drunk. Finn knew for a fact that Brooks preferred other forms of smoking, but couldn’t exactly hang out and puff a joint in front of the hotel.

“So who is this shoot for, anyway?” Johnny asked, perching on the low garden wall.

“Revolver? I think?” Matt was tentative. “I do know there’s an interview.”

“I don’t know why I’m going,” Finn added, toying with the wrapper of her sandwich.

“Sex appeal,” Johnny quipped just as Matt grumbled, “To stand in for Zacky.”

“What the hell, Matt?” Finall, Finn had had enough, and rounded on the man, her face a thundercloud. “You don't like me, I get it, but can't you be fucking civil at least?”

“I am being fucking civil!” The singer frowned, crossing his arms over his burly chest. She couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, so she couldn't tell exactly how angry the confrontation was making him.

“It's not what you say, it's how you're fucking saying it, Sanders.”

“You sound like my mother,”

“At least that means someone tried to teach you fucking manners!” Finn felt her tone escalating, just like it did when she was arguing with her brother. She raised a finger to point into his meaty chest. “I'm fucking doing my best here, Matt, despite your best efforts.”

“Ok, ok, Finn, come here,”

“No, Brian, this has got to stop. We've still got another three weeks of this song and dance and I'm sure I won't be his problem after that,”

“Oh, really?” It was Brian's turn to be angry, frowning down at the lithe guitarist with his arms crossed in a mirror to Matt's. “Why do you keep saying that, Findlay? Even when I tell you I'm not a fucking flight risk,”

Now she had both men scowling down at her. The grey-haired woman lit a cigarette, knowing better than to look for help because it wasn't there. She had gotten herself into a mess once again.

“I told you, didn't I Brian? She's not in it for the long haul.”

“No, you don't get to say that, Matt. I’ve been patient with your bullshit too, and you're not part of this relationship.”

Matt stalked away, leaving Finn to state up at Brian. It was all she could do to resist crossing her arms over her chest, holding them by her sides to show she was vulnerable and open to whatever he had to say. She had read that technique in a book somewhere and it usually seemed to work on her brother.

“I really dug a hole didn't I?”

“You’re definitely chewing on your foot, babe.” At least he was still calling her babe, that was encouraging. With a sigh, Brian held his hands up as if in surrender. “Why do you think this isn't going to last past the tour, Findlay? Do you really think I keep you around because I need someone to fuck?”

“Well that's not fair,” She breathed through her teeth, resisting the urge to light another cigarette.

“God you're beautiful, but you are so fucking dumb Findlay. Don't give me that look, you know what I mean. When it comes to relationships you really are clueless.”

There was a car arriving, but Brian waved the guys on while still staring at the pint-sized guitarist. He blocked her way when she made as though to step around him.

“No, Finn, we need to talk. What have I been saying all along? I may be a sap but I don't just love you because I think you're pretty. We've moved past that point, sweet. So I want you to quit thinking I'm only here to fuck you and move on. I don't think that's what you wanted anyway.”

“It’s not,” She breathed, her voice small.

“Then don't act like it is.” Brian sighed and unfurled his arms, wrapping them around her slender shoulders. “I'm sorry. I feel like you're selling us both short when you do this. It's not fair to either of us. Or us as a whole.”

She nodded into his muscular chest, sighing shakily.

“We gotta get another car,”

“Not until I know you're ok. And know you understand.”

“On some level, I understand, Bri. I'm not an idiot. I just know everyone leaves me. In the end.” She barked a hoarse laugh, shaking her head at herself. “So much angst,”

“But I know you and I know where that's coming from. How do I help with it?”

“Don't get mad at me?” She asked, tilting her head so she stared up at him. “When I doubt you, try not to get upset. Because I'll always be waiting for the end.”

“Hope I'll change that,” Brian murmured into her hair, scratching her back. “Someday.”


	28. Chapter 28

Finn strolled across the stage to where Brian stood, strumming to finish Critical Acclaim with him. Her style was a little more aggressive than Zacky’s because she was used to being the center of attention - relinquishing the spotlight to Brian was a bit difficult, and the tension often showed on stage. Back to back with Brian during the end of the song, the pair pushed against each other so hard they ejected each other off their elephant stand. Findlay almost stumbled into Matt, Brian landed solidly on his feet, still working the crowd.

The fans had accepted her presence in place of Zacky, potentially only because she was the reason the guys were able to keep playing shows in his absence.

Strolling across the stage, back to “her” side, Finn absently strummed her guitar as Matt worked the crowd, asking the typical “are you having a good time?” and telling a story about their time in Munich.

She realized her fingers were playing “Nothing Else Matters,” and was deep into the intro when Brian walked up to her, harmonizing. In that moment, staring into his dark eyes, she felt more like they were playing together in their hotel room rather than in front of thousands of people.

“What’cha doing there, tiny?” Johnny asked over the mic, keying into the pair of guitarists and drawing her out of their moment. Avenged didn’t usually do covers, outside of pulling up audience members for Walk or to sing for Matt when he needed a minute of vocal rest.

Brian gestured at the man as Finn played, abandoning his part for only a second as Finn brought them to the chorus.

To her shock, Matt started to sing for them, prompting Brooks to start playing. Johnny looked a little annoyed, but contributed as well as Finn paced to the front of the stage, reveling in playing the lead for once. Instead of grandstanding, she perched on the edge of the elephant stand, feet kicking as she swayed with the music.

Finn tucked her Docs under her legs Indian-style, relaxing as she played to the crowd, excited to have the lead for once. It was almost like she was proving to the Avenged fans that she had the chops to play the lead, selling the Heathens to the crowd rather than Avenged for once. She knew Brian was somewhere behind her, probably stalking around figuring out how to take the lead.

She was vaguely aware of Raquel filming their impromptu cover - one that only happened because it was fucking Metallica, and how could anyone not know the song? Matt had the crowd singing along as they finished, amid cheers.

“Check out Finn, you guys. She and the Heathens have chops,” Finn almost groaned as Matt tried to sell some of their albums, appreciating the gesture but hating how self-serving it seemed. “Anyway, after a little taste of our good friends Metallica, we’re going to throw you an oldie but goodie. Hope you did your vocal warm-ups, Finn, because we need you for a little. Piece. Of Heaven!!”

Shocked, the grey-haired guitarist glanced at the bassist and other guitarist, asking if the bearded singer was for real with raised eyebrows. She had never performed the song live before, much less with singing, though she and Brian had practiced. It wasn’t the first time she had been thankful that Brian was a miser about practice, she mused, as Mark brough on her mic. Well, Zacky’s mic.

“I don’t know, man, she’s been mute for two weeks. Finn, can you talk?” Johnny asked from his mic, grinning at the diminutive guitarist.

“Ahem, ahem. Is this thing on? How do I sound? Can I get a cigarette please?” Brian, standing next to her, delivered, lighting it with his zippo. She grinned at the guitarist. “Thanks, Syn. Breath of fresh air. Don’t smoke, kids, it’s not good for you.”

“Disclaimer city.” Brian murmured into the mic, his lips dangerously close to hers as she pulled away, speaking through the orchestral intro as they started to strum. She glanced at him, an eyebrow raised as he turned to run to his mic.

Instead of singing Zacky’s part, the two guitarists had negotiated a trade when they rehearsed - Brian would be able to really focus on his lead for once if she was able to sing his parts on the song, which she was more than capable of doing. After the death of their drummer, the boys usually split Jimmy’s part, but tonight apparently, it would be hers.

Cigarette dangling from her pick hand, Finn delivered.

“... Eat it, eat it, eat it!! …” She took a deep breath of smoke before she returned to chugging out rhythm. The parts the boys would have struggled on were easy for the little guitarist, especially the usually recorded female portion. As she chugged through the rhythm, she looked at Matt.

“What will you do? Not long enough,”

“To make it up to you,”

“I pray to god that you do,” She tried not to laugh as Matt stalked over to sing next to her, glaring as she sang the words that had been recorded by his wife. And by Brian’s ex. She threw her hair back as she laughed, singing the harmony about his little crumb, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Not only was she singing one of their biggest hits on stage with the boys, but she was singing very lovey-dovey lyrics with the band member who liked her the least. She looked across the stage - behind Matt - to Brian, who winked at her as he focused back down on his solo. Really, the one who had it the most difficult in the sont - aside from Matt, who had a lot of soaring vocals she was not envious of - was Brooks, who had to play like Jimmy.

“But baby don’t cry - ay - ay - ay - aaaaaay,” She harmonized with Matt at the end in his mic, smiling at the green-eyed singer. Like he would ever find an excuse to like her or even be cordial. At least he was good at pretending onstage, right?

The lithe guitarist stalked back to her side of the stage, past Johnny who slapped her ass, waiting. Little Piece was supposed to be the last song, but it seemed like something was brewing with Matt and Brian.

“Yo sweet beer goddess,” Finn raised both eyebrows, concerned as the black-haired guitarist called to her. “Yes, you, tiny.”

“Well who else on stage is the fucking beer goddess, Syn?” She asked, haughty.

“We're out of songs, but I’m not done playing.”

“Am I supposed to find beer?” She asked, still a little arrogant as she looked at the crowd, shrugging.

“I figured you’d play us out, Findlay. Johnny’s got a penchant for Steambreather,”

“Does he now?” She glanced at the bassist, who shrugged. “Do you have a penchant for singing it?” She asked the bearded singer, hopeful. He had certainly roped her into this, she was going to have to play it whether she wanted to or not.

“Nah, I don’t know the words. Do you all want to hear Findlay’s band’s new song?”

“Brian? I can’t sing it,” She hissed at the guitarist off-mic as he walked past her, grinning.

“We got it, Finn. We will. Do what you can and Matt will fill in.” He whispered into her ear, trying to make sure his lover didn’t panic as he buzzed by her. They both had to restrain themselves not to kiss any exposed skin - Finn would have gone for his neck if she hadn’t been so distracted by the crowd and the idea that she was about to solo her own song.

“Yeah, beer goddess, we’ve got a bit of a surprise for you, don’t we, guys?” Finn stared at the bearded singer blankly, an eyebrow raised. “Let’s get those devil horns in the air as we get ready for one of Findlay’s songs, Steambreather!”

Finn stared at the singer, agape as he announced something she was certainly not ready to play. How could she play and sing that song? She looked at the bearded singer, who winked, as Brian started to play the song, taking a weird but interesting version of what Max and she would usually play as a team. He gave in to Johnny as Matt gestured to the mic. Fuck.

“I’ll admit, I don’t usually sing this, y’all, but I could give it a shot,”

“I could help,” Matt looked down at her, his face kind for once as he spoke to her off mic. "I’m better with you brother’s range than you,”

“I think I've got the bulk of it, but a hand never hurts,” Finn said with a grin, her hands flowing over the fretboard in the opening chords over the bassist and the black-haired guitarist. Matt grinned as he started to sing in an interesting approximation of Tor’s lyrics.

“Running outside the Nazca lines,” It seemed as if Brian was waiting for her to take over, so she did, stroking the neck of her guitar as she played, lips close to the mic that she had been given for A Little Piece of Heaven.

“I wonder who I am, Reflection’s all for nothing,”

She was impressed by the guy’s ability to fill in, having a spare guitarist for the whole song. Brian made it work, while still giving her the lead. That was, until a heckling fan shouted at him, and left her without backup. The grey-haired guitarist hopped up on one of their elephant stands during a solo she was used to taking alone. Johnny hopped up beside her, playing as Brian and security dealt with the fan.

“I’m afraid of myself,” The woman kissed Brian as fully as she could on the lips as security dragged her away and the guitarist dodged. The laugh Finn was holding snuck into her voice as she tried to connect with the crowd, giggling at the other guitarist across the stage as he shook his head.

“How the hell did she get on stage?” Brian asked after the show, reclining on the green room couch. He spread his tattooed arms over the back of the couch, looping one over Finn’s shoulders. “I feel so violated,”

“You’d think you’d be better at dodging by now,” Johnny quipped, laying on his back on the floor, his arms spread wide.

“You think security would be better at catching them,” The guitarist murmured, toying with a lock of Finn’s hair absently.


	29. Chapter 29

Finn managed to balance a sandwich and a can of soda in one hand so she could reach for her phone when it buzzed - expecting a text from Haner. The men of Avenged would be leaving for the airport sometime soon, the wee hours of the morning in London, headed back home to the states. The far side, though.

Instead, it was Jay, asking if he could come over for ‘Girl’ advice. Finn snorted as she told him he was more than welcome, but she was definitely the wrong twin for that. She glanced around the apartment she shared with her twin - located near Berklee, where she had been asked to start working as a TA purely because of her fame - and stood with a sigh to begin shoveling dirty laundry into a hamper and dishes into the sink. After another moment’s thought, she started the washer.

‘ETA? Jays coming over.’ She texted her brother. ‘Don't let me forget the laundry.’

‘Tomorrow am text if you need me.’

With a smile, she slipped her phone into her pocket. If you threw a stone in Boston you'd be hard pressed not to hit a woman Tor hadn't slept with. On any given evening he could be busy, And she could never anticipate when. Sometimes she joked that she wasn't sure why they had a two bedroom.

Adjusting back to regular life after an exceptionally long tour had been difficult,especially since she had very abruptly departed the Avenged tour, leaving her lover in Europe. She was still working to fill in her bandmates and brother about the fun she had in Europe with her surrogate band members, the miracle that was her continuing relationship with Brian. The pair had actually been planning on having a facetime, but with the desperate tone of Jay’s text, she had asked her lover to postpone to the next day.

She texted the black-haired guitarist until Jay knocked on the door.

“Hey, Jay, what’s going on?” Seriously, it was a Friday night and Tor and Max were already out on the town. Finn let him into the apartment, pacing to the kitchen as he threw himself on the couch. “Ok, don’t tell me. Want a drink?”

“Yeah, please. Whiskey?”

“I gotcha.” Findlay poured a pair of whiskey and cokes, hers made with coke zero. She sat them down on the table, perching on the couch next to her drummer with her feet crossed, her drink balanced on her knee.

“Seriously, Jay, what’s got you so worked up?” She asked, taking a big sip of her drink. Jay took it from her, setting it on the table as he began to talk. His on-again, off-again girlfriend who also happened to be the mother of his five-year-old daughter Layla, apparently wasn’t letting him see his child.

“Why doesn’t she want you to see her?” Findlay tried not to be distracted by the intermittent texts from her lover, who had just gotten his hair cut and was preparing to board the plane with his band mates. She missed them all dearly, but his touch most of all.

“I’m not sure, Finby, really.” Jay passed her back her drink, holding his hand out for the phone. “I think she’s focusing on her new boyfriend as Layla’s dad.”

“Man, Jay, that’s awful… I’ve never like Rachel, you know that,” She murmured, setting her phone down on the table as she accepted her drink. “She’s never been kind to you.”

“I know, I don’t know what I did to deserve her,” Finn blinked, her contacts feeling quite dry. Probably the winter air, it happened a lot.

“Ugh, Jay, I wish I had an answer. We have it all and it’s so great. I guess there has to be something shitty,” She blinked sleepily, rubbing her contacts with the backs of her hands, glad she hadn’t put on any makeup. The guitarist took a deep gulp of her drink to wake herself up, knowing the caffeine in the coke would help.

“There isn’t a good one, Findlay. I appreciate you listening, though.” He paused, seeming to inspect her face hungirly. She would recognize that searching look on any man, much less the one that she had spent seven years of her life with in a band. “Are you feeling ok, sweetie?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure, this drink just totally isn’t hitting me right,”

She lost track of their conversation - aware he was talking but not able to really wrap her head around what he was saying. In the back of her mind, she knew something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t articulate it, and when she reached for her phone on the night stand, it wasn’t there.

“Jay, I… think I need to go to bed,” She was pretty sure she told him she needed to sleep. She was so fucking tired. Nauseous, too. Anything for a friend. She told Jay she needed to switch to water - or so she thought - fighting against even a sip of a new drink because of how ill she felt. Really, if he wasn’t in such a bad place she would have dismissed him and gone to bed.

Findlay fought back the nausea and nodded at her drummer as he spoke, hoping that her motion made sense in their conversation as she sipped her drink.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: the aftermath of a sexual assault/rape is described in this chapter. Please skip to the next work in this collection - Steambreather - if you are sensitive to this content.
> 
> As a survivor of sexual assault I wanted to portray It as part of Finn’s story because it’s part of mine and I write to process my own feelings (about things that happened a long time ago, I’m good fam).

It was fucking bright, which meant it was late as hell on a Thursday and she had probably missed something she was supposed to do. The pain was excruciating, and it didn't emanate from her head like she had expected it to. Was she hungover? Her legs hurt so bad she could hardly pull herself to stand. When had she managed to make it to her room?

Finn stumbled to her bathroom, clutching her head in her hand. The mirror was a blur, her contacts crusty, but she didn't have time to get a good look at her face before she heaved herself to the toilet to boot. Fuck, she really hadn't thought she had drank that much last night.

As she lay with her head on the edge of the toilet, in absolute agony, Finn tried to piece back together the end of the evening and realized she couldn't. Her phone wasn't on the nightstand - or at least, she couldn't see it from the bathroom. Struggling against nausea and her sore legs, she stood and dragged herself to the mirror.

And shrieked.

There were bruises all over her pale skin, from her hairline to her waist - and further, she noted as she retched into the sink - from shock more than pain. Though both were severe. Her lip hung apart, nearly ripped in half and crusted with dried blood.

“Finn! Finn, are you ok?”

Her twin slid into the wall of her room in a fair imitation of Tom Cruise in Risky Business - minus the button up. His gasp was all she needed to know about the rest of her body, and she crumpled to the cold tile, sobbing.

“What the fuck happened?!” Tor’s anger turned to compassion as he dropped to his knees by his bloody sister, pulling her into his bare chest. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s gonna be ok Finby. Come on, we gotta get you to the hospital,”

“No,”

“Yes.” Tor was already pulling a flannel and a pair of leggings off the floor next to her bed - where she had a tendency to pile the laundry she considered dirty, but not dirty enough to wash yet. Numbly, she realized it was Matt’s flannel he helped her into, as she followed him into the living room. She couldn’t even summon the will to grab her phone off the floor - it seemed to be in a few pieces, anyway, and she didn’t have the patience to try to put humpty dumpty back together.

The thought of the children’s tale made her laugh dryly, as Tor wrapped her in one of his big, tan winter coats, wondering when he had time to put on pants and a shirt. It wasn’t like she had been standing there for long. He crammed a beanie over her head and helped her guide her feet into her Docs, leaving the laces tucked in as he stomped into his own boots and grabbed the car keys.

Just like that, Tor whisked her off to Mass Gen in the old Jetta they shared. She still felt nauseous, but also somehow empty. Like she had nothing left to puke up and had no choice but to remain miserable with her head between her knees, her arms looped around the back of her legs. Whenever he could spare a hand, her brother reached over to rub her back through his thick coat, looking more concerned than she had ever seen him.

He helped her out of the car at the Emergency Room, leaving the ratty vehicle with valet - another bitter laugh - as they walked into the crowded triage area. Tor left her in a chair as he went up to talk to the nurses, and it wasn’t long before she was whisked back without her brother, into a brightly lit room where a woman explained that she was about to do a rape kit and needed her to strip.

“It’s hard to see a lot of your bruising with these tattoos, young lady. We’ll have to palpate.”

It all became so mechanical then. No, she didn’t know what happened after a certain point. She recounted what she could remember of the evening slowly as she was swabbed, photographed, judged, analyzed and finally treated.

She didn’t sleep like they told her to; instead she sat on the hospital bed in an ugly, thin gown, touching her lip with tentative fingers to feel her stitches. Watching the door, waiting for Tor to join her in the cold room. They had taken her leggings and Matt’s flannel, leaving Tor’s jacket on the chair by the cold cot. She felt like had nothing of her own left.

It hadn’t taken long - about 25 numb seconds after the nurse had told her she was going to take a rape kit, in fact - for Finn to start to piece together what had happened. Why she was so nauseous. The facts - and the line of questioning of the nurse and the lady cop who had joined her for a statement - seemed to point toward the conclusion that Jay had drugged her and raped her. And kicked the shit out of her for good measure.

She stared blankly at her palms, stacked face-up in her lap, wondering where Tor was. If she had a phone, she would have called him, but instead she sat, completely alone in a cold, bright room. Why did they keep these places so cold? She wasn’t a corpse that she knew of. The grey-haired guitarist bit back a harsh laugh as she realized she was still wearing her rings - silver and black, they dotted her fingers. Usually, she never slept in them. They had taken each of them off and put them back on, one by one, taking pictures in between. One - from her right ring finger - was missing. It had a raw ruby in it. Tor had given it to her for their birthday one year. She wondered where it went.

“Finn?” She looked up at the door - her twin stood in the doorway with a bag. “They said they’re done, we can go home.”

“Where were you?”

“They - the police - wanted to see the house. So I got you clothes. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not. I was just… my ring is gone.” She stood, straightening the gown on her thin shoulders. It felt like wearing nothing at all, which wasn’t a comfortable sensation. All she wanted was to go home and take a shower, but found herself reaching for the bag in his hands.

“Your… wait, what?” Tor stepped into the room, letting the door close behind him. He leaned against it as she dressed, his arms crossed.

“My ruby. It’s gone. All my rings are on but that one’s gone and I forgot to tell them.”

“We’ll look for it in the house.” Finn turned to pull his coat over the t-shirt and jeans he had brought her, wishing she had even more clothes to put on. “It could be in the couch like last time.”

“I hope so.”

They regarded each other in silence, both unsure what to say to the other. Finn scrubbed her palms on the corners of his jacket.

“Finby, are you…?”

“No. But I will be.”

He held out an arm for her to fit under, and guided her out to the car.

“Did you talk to Brian?” Tor asked as he backed out of the parking spot - he had obviously chosen not to valet on his second visit to the ER.

“Phone’s broken.” Tor pulled his phone out of his back pocket and flipped it into her lap, and she stared at it blankly. Tentatively, she picked it up, spinning it between her fingers as was her habit. “What do I even say?”

“I don’t know. Start with your phone being broken. Work from there.” He glanced over at his sister at a stoplight, reaching to squeeze her hand. “I almost called him. While you were in there. But I think it’s better if you do.”

She paused for a moment, thumbs over the screen, before she tapped out a text to Brian, thankful she had shared his number with Tor.

“I need a new phone,” The grey-haired guitarist murmured, staring down at the keyboard and tentatively tapping the message that she had broken her phone.

“One thing at a time, Finn.” The screen immediately lit up with a facetime request, which Finn hastily declined.

“Fuck,” Her fingers were shaking, and she stared at her brother, seeking his advice. She had never declined one of Brian’s calls, and was sure it was going to set off some sort of warning in the other guitarist’s mind.

“Is this something you want to text him about, or call?” They were almost back to the apartment, but Tor was going to have to find parking. And the house was going to be a mess. She remembered seeing it on the way out - and remembered being vaguely surprised Tor had breezed past it. He must have been exhausted. At least she had gotten some sleep.

‘let me call you when i get home.’ Tor’s auto caps were apparently signed off, she realized.

‘Where are you?’

‘in the car with T. almost home. stateside?’

‘Waiting for my bag.’

Even though they were in the same country, Finn felt like her boyfriend was still a million miles away. Especially when she really could have used a hug.

Instead of talking the call inside, Finn crawled directly onto the fire escape, cigarettes and Tor’s phone in her hands. Her brother leaned in the window, encouraging her silently, taking a cigarette from her even though he never smoked any more. In that moment, she realized how much more stressed he was than she realized. She dialed.

“Hey, kid, what’s going on? Is everything ok?” Just the sound of his voice set her to weeping and she handed the phone to Tor.

“Hang on a minute, Brian.” He set the phone down on the windowsill, leaning out to put a hand on his sister’s wrist. “Findlay. Finn. It’s ok. Do you want me to talk to him?” It took her a minute to will her head to nod - she was just going to sit there crying with her cigarette, and wasn’t going to get anything coherent out anyway. Tor set his cigarette on the windowsill and pulled the window partially closed, so she could barely hear the muffled half of her brother’s conversation.

“Are you someplace… Yeah, no. It’s not that but it’s not good news. The short story is that Finn was attacked last night... Well, most likely it was Jay and… I don’t fucking know, Haner, why would I think twice about leaving my bandmate alone with my sister? … No, I’m just the guy who drove his sister to the hospital this morning for a fucking rape kit. … Thank you.”

Finn watched the cigarette in her fingers burn down, and she took a deep breath to keep it lit. After a few minutes of protracted pacing, Tor was back at the window with his phone, passing it to her numb fingertips as he picked up his cigarette.

“Finby. You don’t have to say anything. I love you, I’m going to find a flight now.”

“Don’t want you to see me like this,” It was hard to speak with her swollen and stitched lip. He didn’t answer, instead it sounded like he was pushing through a crowd.

“I love you, I’ll be there tonight.”

Finn stared at the phone in her hand before Tor took it, flicking his cigarette butt over the edge of the wrought iron before he pulled his twin back into the apartment.

“Come on, kid, go get yourself cleaned up. I’m going to try to pick up the house a little.”


End file.
